


Waifs and Strays [Larry Stylinson]

by adidaslouis



Series: Waifs and Strays [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Larry Stylinson Is Real, M/M, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 53
Words: 134,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5534570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adidaslouis/pseuds/adidaslouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world of intolerance, a corrupt political system, and starving homeless children, Louis Tomlinson (the leader of a gang of 30 children) kidnaps Harry Styles (the son of a stinking rich family) for ransom money in order to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys :) so this is my first story and I still don't know how everything works on here, so please tell me how you like it. Love xx

**Louis' POV**

"Where the hell is that little cake-eater? He should be here by now," the distorted voice comes from the transceiver in my hand to pull me back to focus.

"I know," I reply while pushing the button on its side.

I'm crouched down behind a bush that goes right up to the muddy pathway of the park. I look over to the young boy across from me, hiding behind a tree as he looks back at me in confusion. I don't react but I know that he knows it's not personal. I need him for this undertaking but I also need to stay focused.

Our position isn't ideal at all. The park is deserted and gives us a generous amount of concealment to the sordid buildings at its egdes, but the van is about a hundert yards away. We wouldn't have been able to hide it properly if we'd have parked it any closer. So now they wait for us on a narrow gravel path that rarely is occupied. It's risky, but we dealt with much more dangerous situations in the past. And besides, if people saw or heard anything, they'd probably just shut their windows and draw the curtains, anyways.

After a few minutes of shifting on my already sore legs, I register faint thuds on the pavement coming closer. As I peek through the leaves of the bush, I can see a tall figure running towards us. He is wearing loose running shorts and a hoodie like always and his headphones are covering his ears.

"He's coming," I whisper into the transceiver and wait.

"Yes. I see him. We're ready," Zayn's voice replies, before I curtly nod and turn the device off.

Stretching my legs slightly, I push the transceiver in my back pocket, after I've retrieved my jack knife from it.

I look over to Evan on the other side of the pathway as he nods with his eyes locked on me. His face wears a determined expression as he fiddles with the small sack in his hands.

The jogger's footsteps get louder by the second. As he jogs past us, unaware of our presence, both Evan and I jump out of our hideouts and tackle the guy immediately. My knife flies to his throat, the same moment as Evan shoves the sack over our victim's head. The second it is placed, I press my other hand over the part of the fabric that covers his mouth and hold him in place. The whole move takes so little time that the boy only now starts to react and trash out at me. He's a few inches taller than I but that doesn't keep me from pressing his back against my chest with my arms, the knife still at his throat.

"Stop moving, you idiot! Or you're going to slit your throat all by yourself," I snarl at him and increase the pressure of the knife.

The boy lets out a loud groan, muffled by my hand, but stills for a flash of a moment. A proud grin sneaks onto my lips as Evan manages to force the rich guy's arms to his back and clicks the handcuffs in place. It takes our combined effort to push the boy towards the waiting van since he still thrashes around with all his force. In the end we rather drag him than anything else while trying to keep as quiet as we can.

When we reach the van, Carlos is already standing in the back of the open trunk, slightly hunched over. The boy in our arms is still furiously struggling and letting out angry groans.

Carlos gives me a questioning look.

"Go ahead," I nod.

Then I tilt my head away and release my hand over the tall guy's mouth, just as Carlos punches him straight into the side of his head.

We shove the now limp body into the truck and I fist bump my mate for the on point blow. He really has knocking people out up to a science. Thank God, I got him on my side.

I close the trunk doors behind Carlos and Evan and climb onto the passenger seat in the front.

After I closed the door, I give a small smile to Zayn who is sitting behind the wheel.

"You guys alright?" he asks with a small smile in return.

"Yeah... sure. Now get going, man," I chuckle.

Zayn's smile grows into a grin while shaking his head, and he pulls out onto the street.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to update every Friday and on Mondays or Tuesdays, depending on how busy I am on Mondays.

**Louis' POV**

"You _really_ knocked him out there, Carlos, didn't you?" Liam says in a slightly amused tone.

"You gotta understand, Payno. That kid is more on the soft side as far as I can see", I chuckle and give him his handcuffs back, after I've retrieved them from our new prisoner.

Harry Styles is his name. That much I know. And that he is the son of one of the rich families in town. And by rich I mean filthy rich. There are not a lot of rich people around, but the ones that have money could not spend all of what they have if they lived for a thousand years; while the rest of us are eating our own shit to survive.

That's why a lot of homeless kids join gangs. It gives them a bigger chance in surviving. At least the kids that live in gangs have a purpose to live, and help each other get by. That's also why I've joined the Sparrows when I was about eight. Actually, a former member of the Sparrows picked me up off the streets when I was about eight and I didn't have another choice, but I'm glad it happened. I probably wouldn't have survived if it wasn't for them. Now I am in charge and I have sworn to myself to keep my people save and sound the same way that the earlier generations of the Sparrows have kept me save over the years.

That's why we had to kidnap that Styles boy. We had to.

He is currently lying in the small dog cage where Zayn and Carlos had unceremoniously thrown him into, a while ago. He is still unconcious. Come on, it must have been like an hour since the punch.

The sack that Evan had pushed over the boy's head had been replaced by a headband over his eyes, his long curls hanging in and around it.

He must not see what we look like. Ever!

"What are we going to do, now?" Evan is standing by my side but doesn't seem to be able to turn his eyes away from our prisoner. He's fairly new to all of this "active stuff" even though he's already sixteen. He's always been such an innocent kid. It didn't surprise me that he wasn't ready for going out there with us, up until a few months ago.

"We wait a little," I say. "His parents are probably only now realizing that he's been away for far to long for his usual run. We'll have to wait until they get a little anxious, you know," I tell him and put my arm around his shoulder, "Then, we can send them our message."

Evan only nods and sits down against the cave wall next to Carlos. I've assigned both of them for the first shift to watch Styles.

As we leave the part of our cave where we put him, Liam puts his arm around my shoulders an smiles.

"Shit, I'm lucky that I got the early shift today," he says. "Poor Niall was _so_ on edge when he came to work. He's worried he might slip a call by the Styles family and blow this whole thing over."

I chuckle lightly. "Well, I'm glad I have two of my best mates on the inside," I reply as we walk to the camp fire in the center of the cave.

This has been the home of all 29 of us for almost a year now. We have to switch locations every once in a while since other gangs or the police sometimes get onto us or stop ignoring our stealing and trespassing.

Niall and I found the cave last summer when we went on a longer trip to find new hunting grounds. It's a little further from the city than all the previous hide-outs of the Sparrows but that might be a good thing. We've been left alone down here for now; which helped settle down and get set up.

When Zayn who's sitting by the camp fire sees us, he toasts his bottle at us and we sit down next to him.

"I got each of you guys a beer, too," he beams.

Liam scoffs and raises an eyebrow in amusement.

"Look at that, Zayn, you're actually starting to learn," I say in mock astonishment.

"Dude, it's not even noon," Liam shakes his head.

I take the bottle Zayn hands me and immediately take a huge gulp of the beverage, I don't do kidnappings every day.

"So," I start as Liam finally accepts his own bottle of beer and we clink them. "How are we going about this?" I say, taking another sip.

"I got today's newspaper from one of my co-worker's desks," Liam informs us.

"Good," I say, "I suggest we tie him to a chair in front of the camera. And I think we should leave the headband off so his parents can really see him."

Liam nods in agreement. "Meaning we need disguises for ourselfs," he says.

As we plan the next few steps of our undertaking, Zayn piles up the wood of the camp fire to really get it going again for lunch. While the girls usually do the cooking, us guys always get the food and attent to fire making and grilling the meat (if we can get our hands on that).

After some time Carlos walkes up to us with a kind of official posture. When Liam sees him, he stops speaking and looks up to him.

"Just wanted to let you guys know. Styles came to," he informs us with a tiny grin. I know he is proud of himself that the kid took so long to come back to consciousness.

"Thanks, mate," Zayn replies, "Will you tell Perrie and Kim that the fire's ready?" he says. Carlos nods and hurries away.

I take a last gulp of my beer and get up. "We have work to do, lads," I say in a humorous tone. "Wouldn't wanna make the rich guy wait now, would we?" I chuckle.

The other two get up behind me and we start walking through one of the cave's tunnels that lead further into it to get ready for shooting the ransom video. We've put up small camp fires in all parts of the cave that are lived in to keep it lighted, but we take a lit torch with us for the part of the cave where we keep our various supplies.

"It'd probably be best to dress in all black and put masks over our faces, get the kid a bit antsy," Zayn suggests, "I mean, if we're going to put disguises on, anyway, we might as well do it right."

I'm not crazy about the idea of frightening that boy more than necessary. He'd be having nightmares for life. And I must know what that is like.

"Alright," I conclude, "but let's not stretch this out for too long, though."

I want this over quickly and I want to forget about it. I know we get into a lot of trouble at times but we try to keep it subtle. _This_ is not subtle.

"Any bet his parents are already all flustered and worried about their little sunshine, anyway," I scoff to keep up the appearance that I don't care about the boy's well being at all.

Zayn laughs along, but Liam who's carrying the torch only smiles uncomfortably. I get him.

Doesn't mean I have to show it, though.


	3. Chapter Three

**Louis' POV**

"You do as we say, understood?" I say for the third time in the past five minutes. He never answered. Just looked back at me all the time, an unreadable expression on his face.

But I won't have it anymore. "Understood?" I say in a harsh tone this time.

Liam, Zayn, and I are all wearing black jeans and black hoodies. We couldn't find masks or anything to cover our faces and we can't affort to cut into our clothes since we barely have enough, so we used some black face paint which one of the girls once stole from the shops for God-knows-what reason.

It's not the best disguise so we try to stay out of the dim light, coming from the small camp fire which illuminates our prisoner's face.

It touches his skin lightly and makes it shine in a way that I have never seen before on another person.

I tell myself that it must be some weird expensive stuff which he puts on his face to make the skin look softer, or whatever these fucking rich people do when they have absolutely nothing better to do with their lives.

When Evan and Carlos brought him here, they tied him to one of the only chairs we actually have and we simply pushed the blindfold up to his forehead so we can pull it back down as soon as we're done. The newspaper that Liam got from work is sitting on his lap for everyone to see.

"Understood," Harry mutters, finally.

"There's no need for messing around, anyways," I infrom him, "The video isn't going to be broadcast live, so we're just going to sit here until it's done."

"Understood," he repeats calmly. Why isn't he fazed by our appearances? Or at least angry with us for treating him like this.

Liam is standing behind the camera that is positioned in front of Harry. The lad found it uptown in a trash can a while back. He had to fix it up with duct tape because the shell came off completely but it still works and it even has a video option.

Zayn is holding some cards with the message we came up with, earlier today at the camp fire.

They both expectantly look back and forth between Harry and I.

"We're going to roll the camera, and you'll say hi to your parents and then read the cards that are shown to you. Nothing else," I say.

Harry looks at me for a moment, then nods.

"Talk!" I demand. I'm getting annoyed by his silence.

"What?" He seems confused.

I roll my eyes in annoyance. "You answer in words," I state.

"Pal..." Liam hums behind the camera, quietly.

When I look at him in anger, he only shrugs his shoulders. "Just give him a break," he says, holding my gaze.

I know I'm being harsh. But I can't seem to help it. I feel stressed, I need to make sure everything goes smoothly and we get the money and everybody stays save. And seeing the rich guy in front of me, having had the perfect life with comfort and family and everything you could wish for, it just makes me angry.

And then there is something about his constant stare that confuses me. He doesn't look at the other two masked guys. Only me. I'm getting the feeling he can see my face. But no, I'm standing in semi-darkness, I tell myself.

"I'm sorry," the boy in front of me blurts out, blinking a few times as if snapping out of his thoughts. He clears his throat but doesn't stop looking at me. "Understood."

"Have you got any questions, Harry?" Liam asks in a much softer voice than I've been using the past few minutes. Somehow that doesn't sit well with me.

"No," he replies, shifting his gaze over to Liam, "No, I don't think so."

"Okay, roll the camera, mate," I say to break their exchange of uncalled-for niceties. "Okay. Go."

The boy in front of the camera hesitates. He looks at me with uncertainty in his eyes, looks into the camera, looks back to me. Finally he looks back into the camera and clears his throat again.

"Uhm.. hi.. Mom, Dad... what have you been up to lately?" His words come out slow, like glue.

Zayn snorts next to me.

"I'm sorry," Harry returns his eyes to me again, an apologetic expression on his face, "I really don't know what to say."

I roll my eyes, but can't help the smirk that is forming on my lips. "Just be yourself. Pretent to be facetiming with them or whatever you people do."

"Uhm.. okay," he nods and looks back into the camera, "So.. hi Mom and Dad. You've probably been wondering where I've been and, well, I am fine."

I press my lips together to keep myself from laughing, and when I look to Zayn and Liam, I can see they are doing the same.

"Uhm.. now," Harry continues, seemingly not realizing that we are all trying to keep a straight face, "I hope you aren't too worried about me.. it's... I'm fine."

Liam presses a hand over his mouth and looks at me in amusement. I smirk back at him. This boy clearly doesn't know how to say "hi Mom and Dad, I have a message for you". I shake my head, look back to our prisoner, then cough quietly to turn Harry's attention back to me. When he looks up at me, I gesture towards Zayn with the cards.

"Oh," Harry nods quickly, "yeah, sorry," he mutters. Why is he being so polite? Always apologizing and such. We are holding him here against his will, for God's sake. I'd be giving people hell if someone did that to me.

"Yeah.. now I'm going to read the cards," he says into the camera. I palm my face and shake my head once again.

"If you want to see me again," he reads,"you will pack up £10.000 in-"

His eyes shoot up to me and a frown forms on his face. "You're doing all of this for £10.000?" he says.

I groan. "Of course Richie Rich, here, would think £10.000 is nothing," I say to Zayn and Liam.

"Is this not worthy of you, Styles?" I call over to the boy. "Should we request more?"

"N-No," Harry stutters, "No, sorry. I didn't mean that, you're right." His shoulders fall a little as he looks up at me with a timid expression on his face, and I suddenly feel a pang of guilt and sympathy for him. I don't even know why, he's nothing special, just a stranger.

"Alright," I sigh, somehow sounding a lot softer now. "Just say 'hi Mom and Dad, I have a message for you' and then read the cards."

He nods and straightens his back again. When I clear my throat, his eyes shoot back up to me. "Understood," he mutters.

"No interruptions," I say.

"Understood."

"Just read the cards," I press.

"Understood."

Okay, this one-sided conversation isn't very satisfying to me. "Go," I say.

This time it actually works.

"Hi Mom and Dad," he begins, "I have a message for you guys. If you want to see me again, you will pack up £10.000 in a standard black briefcase and throw it into the empty orange container in the back of the abandoned butchery at the city harbor on April, 23rd at 12pm. There will be no tricks. There will be no police," he hesitates, before reading the last sentence, "Otherwise you will never see me again."

"That's it," I say to Liam and nod before turning to Harry, "Wasn't that hard now, was it?" I smirk.

Harry only stares down to the ground. I don't like seeing him like that, so I turn my gaze away from him to look over to Zayn and start laughing with him.

Zayn calls for Carlos and Evan who waited for us around the corner to bring Harry back to his "cell", meanwhile, Liam turns off the camera and walkes up to the boy on the chair to pull down his blindfold again.

I just stand there and stare at him until his eyes are covered again. Why was he staring at me all the time and why was he being so polite? And at the same time, he nearly exclusively answered with the word "understood". What is he playing at?

I don't like it when he answers with just one word. I makes me feel like he isn't even listening to me. Like he's not interested in the conversation. It's annoying. I don't like it.

Before Carlos and Evan can drag Harry past me, I put my hand on his chest to stop him. "Next time we talk, you answer in full sentences Is that clear, Styles?" I huff under my breath.

"Crystal clear," he mumbles quietly and allows the two younger boys to lead him away from me.

I could be wrong but I swear I saw a tiny smile on his face, right before he turned away.


	4. Chapter Four

**Louis' POV**

"Worst day of my internship _ever_!" Niall exclaims as he enters the main hall of our cave, arms thrown up in the air.

He walks over to the make-shift table where some of the girls are sitting with dinner, and takes a plate of roasted meat and potatos, before joining us by the fire. I don't know what kind of meat we're having tonight. Zayn went hunting last time, with Peter who is 13 now. It helps him train for when he is ready to tag along with us, providing for the Sparrows.

Other gangs make their people start with training at ten years, some at eight. Meaning hunting, shooting, breaking and entering, stealing, and all that bull when they're only children. There are gangs that use their youngest kids to nick stuff from the stores or have six year olds that walk around with jack knifes, all the time. Some gangs simply don't let people under twelve join the group at all because the younger ones are just dead freight. That's not what we do in our gang, though. There are siblings around here that would have to be seperated, and children, so young that they wouldn't possibly be able to survive on their own.

Niall sits down on the log next to Perrie who has Linda on her lap. Linda is one of our youngest and she is an adorable child just as much as a pain in the ass.

"I didn't even dare to go have a piss. But nobody called about a missing person all day," he says, before digging right into his dinner.

"How did it go, by the way?" he asks without looking up to me or Zayn, "Liam said you haven't been back before he had to leave for his shift."

"Yeah," I say. "We stayed at the cyber cafe for a while longer. Zayn's pot friends invited us to a bit of hookah."

"They're not my friends," Zayn mutters, with a quick glance at Perrie, who is looking at him worriedly, "They're just people that I hang out with on occation."

"What's hootah?" Linda asks with wide, curious eyes.

Zayn smiles at his girlfriend with an apologetic expression but she only looks down to Linda on her lap and goes to fixing her hair clip.

"It's just something that grown-ups like to have when they want to relax, or when they want to have a treat," she says to Linda in a soft tone, "Or when they just have nothing better to do," she says a little harsher and looks up to Zayn who's sitting on her right.

"Babe, come on," he says, "it was only a waterpipe. Nothing you haven't done yourself."

"Yeah," she huffs, "as if that's all you ever do when you're with them. I know these people."

Linda looks back and forth between them with utter confusion on her face. She presses her little rag doll a little tighter into her chest as if it was the only thing that she could completely understand, between all these adults around her.

"It's not like I'm the only one who accepts a spliff when it's offered, every once in a while," Zayn murmurs in defence, his eyes locked on his feet.

"But Louis is not my boyfriend," Perrie snaps, "He can do whatever. Besides, I don't see _him_ waisting his afternoons with these people at least once every week-"

"Uhm, yeah," I interrupt her, "Better leave me out of this. I don't really need to get involved."

Perrie rolls her eyes in annoyance and carefully slides Linda off of her lap. The little girl seems to have lost all interest in the conversation and lightheartedly made her rag doll dance around on her own lap.

"Come on Linda," she smiles down at her, "time for bed, anyways."

"No! I'm not tired! Also not Tinta," she cries and holds up her doll for Perrie to see.

"Yes," Perrie says and picks up the toddler, "Tinker is very tired. She's been looking out for you all day," she says while walking away.

"So," Niall says loudly. He obviously is as glad about the ending of the conversation as I am, "How did it go, now?"

"Good, I guess," I say with a smirk, "We put the message into their mail box right before his father came home. We saw him take it into the house with the rest of their mail."

Niall's eyes go wide at the words "his father" as if it was the first time he knew about the kidnapped boy.

"He's here?" he asks and puts down his emptied plate.

"Of course he is, doofus," Zayn laughs, "That was the plan, right?"

Niall ignores him and turns around, looking in the direction of the tunnel that leads to the storage part of the cave where we are keeping the prisoner.

"Can I go have a look?" Niall looks at me with expecting eyes, like a child that wants to go to the zoo.

I laugh. "He looks like always, Niall," I say, "You've seen him plenty of times."

"I know, but-" he trails off and smiles at me widely.

Now Zayn and I both are laughing. "Alright, then go, you fool," I chuckle, and just like that, Niall jumps up and runs off.

"You're a child, Horan!" I yell after him, laughing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Niall's POV**

He does look like always. Except that he doesn't. He looks like a captive. Sitting on the floor of the 3 feet high dog cage, blindfolded, knees pulled up to his chest, and hands disappearing behind his back. Probably because they are still tied together. Even though I can't see his eyes, he looks lost.

Why did they even tie his hands? He's in a cage and there are Carlos and Peter, sitting a little distance away, to keep watch over him.

"Hey," I say to our prisoner. I'm curious as to what he's like.

He doesn't answer immediately. "You.. you mean me?" he asks hesitantly.

"Yup," I reply with a little pop at the end, "How are you doing?"

"Uhm.." he begins, "marvellous, thanks." His answer almost sounds like a question. I'm pretty sure he feels like I'm making fun of him.

"Sorry, that wasn't the most sensitive thing to say right now," I say while sitting down against the wall next to the cage.

Harry doesn't reply.

"And sorry that we're doing this. We mean no harm," I continue.

Harry only laughs bitterly.

"No, honestly," I assure him, "We're just trying to survive. You'll be out of here in no time."

Harry doesn't move for a while, seeming to consider this. After some silence, Harry turns his head in the direction of my voice even though he can't see me.

"You haven't been here for the filming of the video, have you?" he wonders.

"Nope."

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Can't tell ya," I say curtly.

Harry nods. "Your leader's orders?" he says. I'm pretty sure it is a statement, not a question.

"Yeah," I say, "It's for the best, though." And it is. Louis is smart, he only wants the best for us. He does what is necessary to keep everyone save. And us guys stand beside him and support him in every way possible. We all trust each other with our lives.

"He likes to control things," Harry states in a thoughtful tone.

"He's not a bad person," I defend him, "He's under a lot of pressure and he actually is very caring. He just tries to hide it behind a tough attitude and sarcasm."

Suddenly a small smile forms on Harry's lips, before he chuckles and straightens up a bit. "Yeah, I think I've noticed," he smiles and seems to think about it for a second, "He's not very good at hiding, is he?"

I think about that for a minute. "He certainly thinks, he is," I answer carefully. He actually is pretty good at it, and only people that really know him, notice. But for some reason this lanky person in front of me has figured him out within less than a day.

"He's smaller than some of the others," Harry says, "doesn't look as sturdy or large as some. Why is he your leader?"

This might seem like a weird question, but I know why he's asking. Most gang leaders have their position because they are the strongest in their group and nobody can go against them.

"How do you know what he looks like?" I ask, feeling a little alarmed.

Harry pauses for a moment. "I could see their silhouettes when we were filming," he says simply.

I nod absentmindedly. "He's the oldest," I say, and add in an after-thought, "but it's not like he isn't also strong. He's like a ball of energy, really."

"I've noticed that, too," Harry says with another smile, "After all, he did overbear me, this morning. The second person- the one that helped him snatch me... that person didn't seem like a lot of help, to be honest." He means Evan. No, that kid really is not very strong.

"You're very perceptive," I say with raised eyebrows. I'm slightly puzzled by the fact that he seems to notice so much.

Harry only shrugs. "No wonder. I can't seem to rely on my eyes lately," he says, "for some unknown reason."

I burst into a loud laugh. He doesn't seem scared at all, he even smirks at my reaction. It's a shame really, I feel like he could become a good friend if we weren't in the position that we are in right now.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," I say, but I'm still laughing.

"Well, that's not very nice," he says in mock indignation, "laughing at this while apologizing."

I sober up quickly. "Um, yeah, sorry man," I murmur, but then I can't help a smirk forming on my lips, "but you do realize this is good practice for the next kinky sex you rich people seem to be into."

His cheeks beneath Harry's blindfold turn pink and I begin to laugh again, this time Harry joins me. Now we are both laughing. It's an unkept secret that a lot of rich people pay tons of money for the experience of being tied down and blindfolded and yelled at for fun. In this world of all things where it could happen for real, at any day, and it would not be fun or arousing at all.

"Mate," I hear someone call, and stop laughing. It's Louis, I know it before I even turn my head in his direction. "Get your ass over here," he grunts.

I comply with his order immediately and make my way over to him. He is standing in front of Carlos and Peter who are sitting on the floor, playing cards.

"You guys can go get something to eat," he says to them as I approach, "you're off." When they both have left, he turns to me. "Get the kid something to eat, will you?" he says to me. I know that it's not an order but a request.

I smile at him and nod.

As I'm about to leave he holds me back. "I've assigned the both of us for watching over him, ever night," he says and nods over to Harry.

I look over, too, and something comes to mind. "Why is he still tied?" I question, "Doesn't look very comfortable."

Louis frowns at me. "He doesn't need to be comfortable," he mutters, "and besides, he tried to escape this afternoon when Evan and Carlos brought him back here, after filming the ransom video."

I raise my eyebrows at him. Oh, I didn't expect that.

"He's going to try it again," Louis says with conviction, "I'm just being cautious." He smiles at me apologetically. "Sorry for not telling you before, but please don't make him feel to comfortable around here," he says urgently. I know he is thinking about how Harry and I were laughing together, when he came in. He looks at me sternly, so I give him a curt nod and head off to our main hall to get some food for Harry.

 


	5. Chapter Five

**Louis' POV**

I didn't sleep well last night.

Well, Niall and I weren't supposed to sleep much, anyway. But Niall had been working a stressful day's shift and looked exhausted, so I let him sleep through the night. He already left an hour ago for his next shift. And I just couldn't keep my eyes open anymore at some point, and that was okay. Our prisoner had been asleep for hours, before I finally closed my eyes.

I wish I hadn't closed them, though. Those stupid nightmares that I have been spared of in the past couple of weeks came back. Of course they did, they always come back when I'm stressed out.

I stretch my sore neck and rub it with the palm of my hand as best as I can. It really is not comfortable to sleep in this cave without the mattresses we thankfully picked up at some point and place.

After I have gulped down half a bottle of water to try and get rid of my headache, I start my morning like I always do. I make my rounds through our huge home and check in on everybody, to see if anything is amiss. Sometimes it sucks being the leader. All the responsibility is on my shoulders and if something doesn't go as planned, I am the one to blame.

I head over to the kids dorm room, as we call it, where all the children till the age of 14 are sleeping. Perrie, who is the oldest girl, and by that, has the main responsibility for the kids, hands me a never ending list of supplies that we are running out on, including diapers for Linda and a baby boy named Dax (Peter's brother). The things I have to deal with in this damned world. It's a joke.

I shake my head and continue my morning rounds over to the cooking area, before I make my way to the storage halls where I find Zayn who is just going through our ammo and weapons.

"Morning boss," he greets me with a smile, taking a gun in his hand and pointing it right at my chest.

I roll my eyes and continue walking towards him. "You know I hate to be called that," I say and take the gun away from him to put it back into the box of guns. We don't have many, but thanks to Liam's job at the police station we were able to get a hold on some over the years. Still, we try to use them as little as possible because ammunition is rare and hard to come by, so we mainly use knifes, bow and arrow, and anything else we can find.

"That's why I do it, boss," he chuckles.

I ignore him and look around the large room with all the boxes, and racks, and random things lying around. "So, what's going on? Anything important that we are running out on back here?" I say and start opening some boxes standing in front of me.

Zayn lets out a breathy sigh, before answering. "Everything, really," he groans with a frown. "We don't even have to talk about our lack of ammo, as always. But we're also almost out of bathroom products like soap and toothpaste, we only have 53 bottles of water back here, there is almost no patrol left for the cars, and I exchanged our last gas cylinder with the empty one in the kitchen, just this morning," he says while pointing to different places in the storage hall, "and I'm sure Perrie already gave you a list of things that she needs for the dwarfs."

My shoulders slouched more and more in the past minute or so. "And the girls just told me that we're out of almost all edible things in the kitchen," I groan and shake my head. "I don't know how to get all of these things at once. Even _with_ the money Liam earns."

"Yeah, thank God he got his hands on that job," Zayn says and scratches the back of his head, "imagine we had to steal _everything_ we need. We'd be screwed, man."

"Well, it worked before, right?", I say dismissively. "Whatever, we need to see that we buy as much water and patrol as possible from the money we have left. The rest we can just get like that."

Zayn nods his head and picks up the torch he brought back here to be able to see. "I'll tell Carlos and Evan to go get ready," he says and leaves.

I pick up my own torch and go back to the main hall where I find Liam sitting at our usual spot at the camp fire. He must have just returned from his 12 hour night shift.

"Can't wait until this all is over," he yawns when I sit down next to him, "This routine is killing me."

He usually only works two or three days a week. We don't earn a lot of money like that but I need him here with us, more than we need the money. But now, while we have that Styles kid here, we need someone at the police station 24/7. That's why Liam did everything he could to get Niall the internship when we started planning all of this, about half a year ago.

"Go and get some rest, mate," I say and pat his back, before withdrawing quickly. "Only one more day," I try to reassure him.

Liam smiles weakly, but it falls within seconds. "I saw some Grey Skin today," he murmurs, "At work."

I can feel a frown forming on my face. The Grey Skins are another gang of this city. For some reason they seem to be alarmingly friendly with our corrupt police. They never get in trouble for the things they do, for the things every gang around here does. They don't even have to hide from them. Everybody knows that they live in a huge abandoned office building on the outskirts of town.

"What did they want?" I ask with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Dunno," Liam mumbles with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Louis!" I hear Zayn calling from the entrance. "You coming?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Niall's POV**

I want to talk to him again, before dinner. I don't know why but it amazes me to have a prisoner. It's new, and a little bit scary, and really just so fascinating. Plus, I do think he's fun to talk to, so why not.

"What's up, Harry!" I call as I sit down next to the cage, just like yesterday.

Harry jumps a little and turns his head up. "Oh, um... it's, it's you, right...?" he asks, looking like he's caught by surprise. "Jeez, it's so weird, not knowing your name. I can't even ask you if it's you."

"It's me, though," I laugh. "How has it been today? Better than yesterday?"

"Not really," Harry answers in his slow voice, obviously puzzled by my out of place question once again. "It's boring," he continues, after a short pause, "and uncomfortable, and lonely, and cold."

"Only like 15 more hours of the cold, dude," I say looking at my non-existent watch, "And you have me to talk to, so it's not that boring really."

Harry's head shoots up, before he turns it from left to right and back again. "We're in a cave right?" he wonders.

I raise my eyebrows. "What makes you think that?" I say cautiously.

"I was able to see part of it during the filming, remember," he says and shudders, "And it feels like it, it sounds like it, too. Do you guys _live_ in here?"

I shrug, even though Harry can't see it. "This place is as good as any," I say.

"I guess so," he mumbles.

I laugh. "Yeah, sure, you're used to higher standards, no?" I say with a grin.

Harry blushes lightly and clears his throat. "Well..." he trails off.

"Come on, tell me about your palace of a house. What's it like? Do you have your own room?" I say, seriously getting interested in the life of a rich guy at my age.

"Yes, I do," Harry answers hesitant.

"Do you have a TV?" I ask, becoming eager.

"Yes," he says, "nothing much on, though."

"Do you have a bathtub?"

"We have a pool."

"Shit!" I exclaim, my eyes going wide in excitement.

"We're not one of those uptight rich people, though," he says. "My dad even tries to help this city, help this country, really. He's working on ways to revive the environment again. He tries to increase our general food production and all that," Harry explains.

"How generous of him." Louis' unimpressed voice carries over to us. "Now _we_ are going to _de_ crease our general food inventory, you snob," he says and then turns to me. "Dinner's ready."

I smile at Louis and get up. "See ya, pool owner," I say to Harry and make my way towards Louis. He is looking at me with a frown on his face.

"Why are you always so nice to him?" he asks as we walk into the main hall.

"Why are you always so not nice to him?" I ask in return.

He doesn't answer. He is always so guarded. I always feel like he is trying to hide something. But I know it's just the pressure he is under, and the fact that he is Louis.

"You know, you really shouldn't be so hard on him, Louis," I say tentatively, "he's a nice guy, you'd like him, I think. And he's going to be gone by tomorrow night, anyways."

"I wouldn't like him," Louis huffs and shoves his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket, "and I don't need to like him. Like you said, he'll be gone by tomorrow night. No, scratch that, he's our prisoner, for fuck's sake! No need to befriend him, anyways!" he rants.

"Alright, Louis," I say slowly, "How 'bout dinner, hey?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Louis' POV**

I've been sitting here for hours and hours now. I just want to have a quick nap but it's just as uncomfortable as last night. Well, that's a good thing, though. I'm not really supposed to fall asleep, especially because Niall went out like a light again, as soon as we got back here. Also just like last night.

But that's just it. Everything reminds me of last night, and I just don't want to have those dreams again, see my Mom's still body on the kitchen floor, see her coffin being lowered into the ground, hear the voices of those disgusting men in the alleyway. I can't have that right now.

I try to think about anything else than last night and my dreams, but even the boy in the cage next to me reminds me of last night. He is still wearing the same clothes as he did two days ago. We only let him out twice a day to go have a piss or whatever. He will definitely not be used to that level of hygiene if you ask me, but who cares. He'll be back in his mansion, save and sound, and probably spoiled by his prim and proper, rich ass Mom, within less than a day.

She looks just like him. As much as mother and son can look alike. She doesn't have his brown curls, though. Those curls are completely messy and slightly oily by now. However, it still manages to look good on him, it only looks glossier in the dim light of the weak flame of the camp fire. A slight stubble has started to grow on his face, mainly on his upper lip and his chin, which makes him look rougher in a way, not as clean and young as before.

And now I can't help but stare at his lips which are a bit chapped, but still so pink. They are slightly parted in sleep and they look so plum.

I hate doing this, I hate giving in to it. I hate that I am even thinking about these things. I shouldn't notice stuff like that. And I haven't in a long while.

But Niall is asleep, and nobody else is around, and it's just a quick glance, I tell myself. Nobody has to know. I have it under control.


	6. Chapter Six

**Louis' POV**

This is it, April, 23rd; 10:55am. We are driving along the harbor which looks like part of a ghost town, or coming straight out of a horror movie. Almost all of the buildings are empty or dilapidated, most are covered in graffiti daub, with smashed-in windows and broken gates (without a doubt by one of the gangs, many of them by us). Nearly none of the factories or storage buildings are still in use. Our economy system is completely rundown.

The few buildings that _are_ still in use, like some fisheries or the shipyard are run by creepy looking, filthy man with hollow cheeks and dead eyes, somewhat like the three men from that horrible night when I was fifteen. I try to not even look at the few people we drive past and focus back on the reason why we are here in the first place.

This morning Liam came home with news. Desmond Styles, Harry's father, had finally called, that night, and informed him about somebody kidnapping his son, and demanding ransom money, and threatening to kill Harry if they get the police involved (which we didn't, we only said they would never see him again). And Liam did his job by telling him to calm down and that there is no need to call again or come to the police station in person, just to ensure Harry's safety of course, because of the threat. He told him that the police would handle things and he should just go with the instructions of the kidnappers.

So now, everything should go as planned. As soon as we have the money, we will bring Harry back to the park where we abducted him and everything can go back to normal; only difference is, we will have a lot more money to keep all these rumbling bellies satisfied.

Zayn pulls the van onto some old warehouse premises, parking the car concealed behind the building.

"Carlos, you are going to keep an eye on the van, remember?" I say as we all get out of the van. We never leave cars parked within the city boundaries, unattended. They get broken into and stolen by people like us. That's how we got our hands on our own three vehicles in the first place.

"Yes, Louis," he says with a roll of his eyes, somewhat annoyed, "we've gone through the plan like a thousand times now. I even dream about it sometimes."

I don't have the energy for his attitude right now. "Well then, shut your puss and get behind the wheel," I say and stare at him until he turns around and follows my orders.

Zayn, Liam, Niall and I turn away and creep along the walls of the warehouse to the very far end of its premises. We are not going to take the street to get to the butchery. We parked the car about a quarter mile away from the butchery to prevent it from attracting any attention, and now we take the river side of the buildings.

The butchery is merely a huge stone ashlar with shattered windows, and weeds and vines growing out of every crack and corner. The backyard is not particularly big and the only thing that has been left behind is a big orange container made of steel, standing next to the back wall of the building.

As planned, Liam and Niall make their way to the other side of the backyard where they hide in some thick bushes to be able to overlook the exteriors, while Zayn and I climb through one of the windows, closest to the container. We seem to be in one of the slaughterhouses with tiled floors and walls, and a slaughtering block in the middle of the room.

"Did I ever tell you that I hate waiting?" says Zayn in a hushed voice as we position ourselves next to the window, making sure to stay concealed.

"Same here, mate," I say and check to see that Liam and Niall are just as concealed from a stranger's eye as we are. "But better be safe than sorry, right?"

Zayn nods and leans against the wall next to the window. After a while I can feel his eyes on me and stare back at him in confusion. The corner of Zayn's mouth pulls up into a smug smile while he pushes a hand into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

My eyes go wide. "How did you get these?" I ask him and excitement starts to fill my chest.

We almost never buy cigarettes because we have to think about surviving first and it is harder to steal them than one might imagine. Harder even than stealing cars. Everything that is a treat in this world is overpriced and strongly guarded. We either find a pack on one of the rich people's porches uptown or get offered a smoke by sketchy people in a bar.

"Burke gave them to me as payment last night," Zayn smirks.

Burke is the owner of the cyber cafe where Zayn likes to hang out sometimes.

"I spray-painted his shop window and he gave me the whole thing! I _did_ already have some, but I thought we could have a few now, since I know how much we both hate waiting," he admits, chuckling.

"Sick!" I exclaim in delight and make grabby hands towards the pack, momentarily forgetting to be quiet.

Zayn laughs to himself, pulls a cigarette out for himself, and then throws them over to my side of the window. When I pull a cigarette out, I see that he has already smoked like half of them, but there are still plenty left.

We each have smoked three cigarettes by now. We tried to hold back but it is such a special thing to have a whole packet for ourselves, and it really helps me keeping my nerves down.

"We'll keep the rest for tonight, okay?" Zayn suggests as he throws his third stub to the ground and steps on it.

"They're yours, Zayn," I say. "Your call."

He only winks at me in return.

"What time is it?" he wonders.

"Almost noon," I say under my breath as I remember to be quiet. "Let's stop talking."

With that, our expressions turn serious again and we both take a glance out of the window. There is still no movement, no suspicious sounds.

I look at my watch pretty much every 30 seconds, but when both of its hands point to 12, that is when I hear a car roll onto the backyard.

"Wow. Rich people are really punctual," I scoff and Zayn pulls a face.

The short limousine with smoked windows halts directly next to the container and out steps a bulky, muscular man. It's not Harry's father. It might be a bodyguard, I suppose. He holds a black briefcase in his hands and only needs to take one step to reach the container and throw it in. After that, he doesn't move, he looks around the backyard with stern eyes.

What is he waiting for? Get off, already!

I start fidgeting on my spot, but try to control myself in front of Zayn. He doesn't have to know how nervous I am about this.

The man finally turns around and gets back into the car, before it drives off and the backyard soon turns back into the silent, unmoving place it was before.

Well, that was easy, I think to myself.

I take one last glance around the backyard and am about to jump out of the window, just when I hear a dull clang from the inside of the container and jump back to my original position instead. When I look out of the window, I see a dark blonde teenage boy jumping out of the container - with the briefcase in his arms.

Shit!

"Oi!" I yell, throwing all caution into the wind. I am about to jump out of the window for the second time, to chase after the kid. But suddenly there is a hand over my mouth and an arm around my chest to hold me back and yank me away from the window.

"Don't!" Zayn's voice hisses next to my ear and I freeze, there are shouts coming from outside.

Zayn releases me from his grip and I glance back out of the window. A hand full of people are in the backyard. The boy that just stole our money, and a few policemen. I can't count them. They are running. Suddenly I hear a loud shout that I can't quite place, and then more people are jumping out of the bushes all around the backyard. All kids and teenagers. Another gang. They chase after the police themselves and start tackling them to the ground and throwing things at them. Stones, I think.

"We have to get out of here" Zayn hisses to me in an alarmed tone, and jumps out of the window. We both have no idea how to get out of the building, through the front door, or whether it is even unlocked, and the police seems to be too preoccupied to notice us anyways, so I jump outside after him.

As soon as I hit the tarred ground of the backyard, it all starts to turn into a disaster.

At least two dozen policemen emerge out of the bushes now and join the ongoing fight between gang and police. Suddenly, I hear a sharp bang, and that seems to be the invitation for all the other policemen to start shooting at their opponents. I don't know where Liam and Niall are in all of this chaos. What is going on here!?

"Shit!" Zayn yells as another shot is fired, ducking just in case.

Somebody must have heard or seen us because now a police officer is pointing right at me and Zayn, and three other policemen start running toward us. They are in shooting distance.

I look around. We are trapped. There is no way we can make it to the little opening in the fence that we came in through. I know this is dumb, but I see now other alternative, so I spin around and jump back into the window and yell for Zayn to do the same.

It's dark in this building, there are not many windows in here. Zayn and I run through the slaughterhouse towards a massive door which luckily is pushed open.

"Freeze, you little shitheads!" a voice yells from behind us.

Zayn and I reach the door just as a shot is fired through the slaughterhouse, but we manage to turn into the long and dark hallway without being hit. I can hear the thuds of heavy boots hitting the tiled floor behind us as they apparently jump in through the window after us.

"Run!" I yell to Zayn and turn around a corner, out of sheer lack of knowledge about where to go.

There are more shots fired as we run, and their footsteps sound like a herd of angry bulls.

"Stop!" somebody yells again and another shot sizzles past me.

I have no idea where we are, or if we are even running towards the front door.

"In here!" Zayn shouts suddenly and turns left into yet another slaughterhouse. I follow him and see why he decided to enter a possible dead end.

There is a small window in the opposite wall, just like the one we came in through. But it is still intact and there is no visible handle to open it with. There is also nothing around to smash it with. I can hear the three policemen in the hallway. They are almost here.

Zayn looks back at the door once more and then runs over to the window, throws his arm back and smashes it with his barely clothed elbow. He yelps as some glass fragments penetrate the fabric of his hoodie and the skin underneath, but nevertheless strikes against the glass a few more times until the hole is big enough for us to fit through.

"Come on, Louis!" Zayn yells as he jumps through the window and out of my sight.

The policemen have reached the doorway now and I hear shots being fired all round me. I swear in frustration, jump out of the window and start running after Zayn, towards the hole in the fence.

However, the shooting doesn't stop. They are shooting out of the window, so I duck just in case. I run as fast as I possibly can. I'm a fast runner. I almost catch up to Zayn, even though he was a good 60 feet in front of me. My heart seems to hammer even faster. I can feel the adrenaline rush through my veins. This should actually feel good, but it doesn't.

You're almost there, I think to myself and duck as I hear another shot being fired. Almost there.

Zayn is climbing through the fence, after giving me another glance to make sure that I'm right behind him, I suppose. Which I am.

We've made it.

I reach the fence and duck my head to slip through the opening when another shot is fired and I collapse to the ground with a sudden pang.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Louis' POV**

"Damn, Louis! Get over here!" Zayn is yelling from the other side of the fence.

I've been shot. It's only my calf but it hurts as fuck. And there is so much blood already, I don't even know why I'm bleeding so much.

I need to get out of here, I could _really_ get shot at any moment. So I get up on my still intact left leg, trying to ignore the pain as best as I can and hurl myself through the fence.

Now Zayn is here and helps me into an upright position.

"Have you been shot?" His voice sounds horrified.

"Can we talk some other time and get the hell out of here?" I scoff.

Zayn notices how I am holding my right leg up, so he puts my arm around his shoulders and helps me hop away from the butchery premises.

I look back several times but nobody seems to follow. Real heroes our policemen are. They don't care about actually imposing law and order, they don't care about solving crimes, they don't care about making this city safer. They get bored so easily, it's almost humorous. No wonder so many gangs got away with their ways for so long now.

I can feel the blood stream down my leg but the initial pain starts to dull down. I try to step on my right leg again, causing a stabbing pain to run up my calf.

Nope. Not using that leg any time soon.

"How is your arm?" I ask Zayn when I am sure that nobody is following us anymore.

"It's fine," he says tersely. His breathing has become rather heavy. "Is that Niall?" he wonders, relief clear in his voice.

He starts out raising his free arm to point in front of us, but then winces and pulls it back to his side. His arm doesn't seem as "fine" as he makes it out to be. I think we are quite the same in that matter.

I raise my head and look in the direction Zayn was about to point at to see that he was right. Niall's figure is standing next to our black van. He seems to be looking for something. When he sees us, he yells out and waves at us. With that, Liam emerges from behind the van and runs towards us.

"Where have you guys been?" he calls, but stops when his eyes land on me.

"Holy shit, Louis! Are you okay?" he worries and puts a hand on my back as he reaches us. I must be bleeding quite a lot.

"It's nothing, Payno, get your hands off of me," I say harshly, but can't hold back a smirk. There is no one in the world that is more fun to annoy than Liam.

"Suit yourself, cripple," Liam hums and pulls his hand away.

"Niall, open the trunk!" Zayn yells, ignoring our quarrel completely. "Hurry up!"

We all get into the trunk of the van and as soon as the door is closed, it starts to move. Carlos must be behind the wheel. Great, now we are going to die, all the same.

While we sit on the car floor and try to hold on for dear life, Carlos violently yanks on the wheel ever so often, and jams on the breaks whenever he seems to be bored. It doesn't really help the pain in my calf.

"Who the hell decided on Carlos driving the van?" I huff, my nerves are still on edge.

My pants are pretty tight and I am not ready to push the fabric up over my wound yet, but I examine it nevertheless. There is a lot of blood and it is still leaking out of my calf; out of two punctures on my calf, to be exact. The bullet must have pierced right through it. I'm glad, that way I don't have to find a way to get that thing out of my leg again. But it is probably also the reason for all the blood. There is no bullet to stop the bleeding. The two punctures are on either side of my calf, about five inches below my knee, going right through the flesh. I take of my thin jacket and firmly press it against my wound to stop the bleeding, I already feel a bit lightheaded.

In the meanwhile, Zayn has taken off his hoodie and starts pulling the remaining glass fragments out of his arm.

"What happened to you guys?" Liam breaks the silence.

I look at Zayn, but he seems to be too preoccupied to answer.

"Some cops saw us and started shooting at us, we had to find our way through the building and then Zayn smashed in a window with his elbow. And then one of these turds managed to shoot me, right before I was able to escape through the fence," I say and feel the need to divert the focus of the conversation, "Where have you guys been? We couldn't see you."

"As soon as we saw the first few cops jump out of the bushes right next to us, we decided to get the hell out of there. We made our way back to the fence through the bushes," Liam explains, "We heard the first gunshot when we had just managed to escape through the fence. I wanted to come back to get you guys, but Niall thought it would only lead all of us into even more trouble."

"Why didn't _we_ bring our guns, anyways?" Niall says angrily, "That was plain dense."

He is right, it was careless.

"I was confident, everything would go smoothly," I try to defend my decision, "Liam had told me he had intercepted the call by Styles. He said he'd made sure that they didn't call again, he said no other officer knew about the call," I turn to Liam, "You did, didn't you?"

Liam's face falls. "Well..." he begins, "Harry's father called around 11pm last night, and I told him everything we had planned on telling him."

I feel a "but" hiding behind his words and a frown forming on my face. "But?" I snap.

"But then, later that night, a colleague asked me to join him patrolling the streets because his partner was working on some pressing case," he mumbles. I can see him shrinking with every word. "So I went with him, and I didn't come back to the office this morning, before I went home."

There is a dead silence in the car.

"Nice, Liam!" I suddenly burst out, "You've just ruined months and months of planning and preparation and nearly got all of us killed! Well done, pinhead, a round of applause for the brains of the Sparrows."

"I'm sorry," Liam says in a small voice. He sounds like he is feeling guilty. He should be.

"I was convinced we were in the clear," he apologizes, "I thought he wouldn't call again."

"Well, maybe you should just stop thinking, idiot," I snort.

"Just stop it already," Niall butts in, "that doesn't help either, Louis."

I just purse my lips and look down at my calf. The tight pressure of the jacket really helps decreasing the bleeding.

"Maybe it wasn't even Liam's fault," Niall continues, "I mean, how did the other gang find out about our video? Maybe the police found out about it, the same way they did."

"Who were they, anyways?" Zayn wonders, "Did anyone recognize them?"

"No, I didn't recognize anyone," Liam says, sounding a lot more confident again. Thanks, Niall. "But one of them had a 'C' tattooed on his neck," he continues.

"The Creepers," Niall hums.

We arrive at home, coming to a halt with a deadly jam on the breaks by our gifted driver.

Perrie hurries to get the first-aid box from our storage halls when she sees Zayn and I sitting down by the campfire. She hands me some bandages before attending to Zayn's lacerations. I begin to slowly roll up my right trouser leg, wash away the blood with some water that Kim (one of the girls) had brought us, and tightly wrap a bandage around my calf.

"So, what are we going to do now?" Zayn asks and winces when Perrie sprays something on his arm. "We still don't have the money."

Niall sighs and rubs the palms of his hands all over his face, he looks as exhausted as I am feeling right now. "Well, the police is involved now," he says, "If we could even count Evan, the six of us still wouldn't stand a chance against them. I'd say we release Harry and find another way to get money."

"No way," I say, shaking my head, "We have been working for this for far too long. We are not giving up now."

"It's not giving up, Louis," Niall says, "It is finding a better way."

"I'm with Louis on this one, to be honest," Liam says, and I am not sure whether he really thinks so or just wants to get on my good side again. "Cops get bored with their cases really easily. They stop being interested as soon as they have to dig a little deeper. And maybe they will already be satisfied with the Creepers. I can try and help. Maybe I can make them look even guiltier than they already do," he suggests.

"And if not, we'll only have to wait until someone with more money and power than the Styles family comes along with a new case," Zayn agrees.

"Yes! We are not giving up," I nod and smile triumphantly for the first time since Liam had admitted to his stupidity. "We'll keep the boy here, for now."

"Alright," Niall says, absentmindedly staring into the fire. I know he is not too crazy about Harry staying our prisoner. He really seems to like him.

"We should tell Harry," Liam says and looks at me.

I contemplate to ignore him, but I know Niall is right. Maybe it wasn't Liam's fault after all.

Liam smiles when I get up, taking the stick that I picked up on our way from the van to the cave. It helps me moving around without straining my leg too much. We walk through the cave's tunnels in silence, I am still angry with Liam for being so careless. But when I see Harry's slumped body in his cage, I feel a pang of guilt myself. I never planned on keeping him a prisoner for more than a couple of days.

"Hey Harry," Liam calls nicely as we approach him, "We have news."

"Oh, okay," Harry turns his head in the direction of Liam's voice, "What is it?"

Liam stays silent. Of course _I_ am the one to deliver the good news.

"You're staying here," I say brusquely.

I can see a crease appearing between Harry's eyebrows. "Okay," he says, sounding confused, "For how long?"

"Until further notice," I say.

Suddenly Harry jolts up into a sitting position. "What! Why?" he yells.

"None of your business," I say. I sure as hell am not going to tell him the reason.

Liam clears his throat next to me. "There have been some issues with the money delivery," he says to Harry. "Sorry, man."

Um, why is everybody so freaking nice to that lanky person?

"Whatever," I say as I turn around. "You're staying here," I repeat.

"Wait," Harry calls after me, so I stop in my tracks.

"What?"

"I need to have a wee," he says.

I scoff. What is he, five?

Liam looks at me and when I only shrug my shoulders, he opens the cage and helps Harry's lean body out and into an upright position. We each put a hand on Harry's shoulders and walk him outside because he is still blindfolded, and lead him to a tree.

"I kinda need my hands for this," Harry murmurs, blushing. I smirk.

Liam unties his hands and steps back, standing next to me.

"We need to let him have a bath," Liam says to me.

"I know," I nod, "but I don't like it. This is our water, and we barely have enough as is. Same goes for the food."

"Yes, but it's only one person more. We just have to tighten our belts a little bit," he says.

"Yeah, I know, you're right," I agree, "But I just didn't plan on-"

Suddenly I see some movement out of the corner of my eye, so I yank my head around in Harry's direction. Harry is pulling his blindfold down and takes off into the woods.

"Oi!" Liam yells and sprints after him.

I try to run after them, too, but I still can't really step on my right foot and even the stick isn't helping much.

It is our luck that we have been living here for so long and Liam is used to running through the woods, unlike that spoiled little rich guy that is just stumbling over nothing in particular and falls to the ground. Before he can get up again, Liam reaches him and pins him to the ground, using his full body weight. Harry groans in annoyance and tries to struggle himself free, until I reach the two of them.

"Fancy footwork, clumsy," I laugh.

At that, Harry's gaze lands on my eyes and he stills, staring right at my face.

Awesome, so much for never letting him know what we look like. Can this day get any worse?


	8. Chapter Eight

**Harry's POV**

I'm so glad to be able to see again, I haven't been able to see anything for the past two days. But my eyes are still a little sensitive to the light. That is the only reason why I tripped and fell when I was running. It really was the reason, okay? I mean it.

I squint my eyes when I look up at the person towering over me while I am still pressed into the forest soil by the larger one of the two men that led me outside.

The guy next to me is the leader of this gang, I am pretty sure. He has the stature and the same sharp cheekbones that I was able to make out in the dark when they made me shoot the video. He has feathery brown hair and a light stubble on his face, and looks down at me with light blue eyes that glisten with intensity. I'm not sure whether he is still laughing at me for tripping or glaring at me for trying to escape.

"We can't let you escape, Harry," the guy on top of me says as he lifts himself off of me to tie my hands together again, but I'm not even trying to resist him anymore. I can't make myself break eye contact with their leader, just like I couldn't stop looking at his silhouette when we were filming. He has something captivating about him.

"We'd risk not only our lives but also those of too many others," the taller one continues, pulling me up to my feet again.

"What are we doing about his blindfold now?" he turns to his leader, "Put it back on?"

The shorter one hasn't broken eye contact with me yet, but his amused look has now completely turned into a glare. He looks rather pissed with the frown on his face and the way he clenches one of his hands into a fist while the other holds onto a long wooden stick to support himself. One of his legs seems to be injured.

Finally he averts his eyes and looks past me to where his partner is standing.

"No, whatever," he grumbles, "He has already seen the leader and our fine policeman. We are probably the worst combination of members to discover the identity of." He gives me another glare and turns back to his friend again. "If he tells the cops what we look like, our covers are blown anyway."

"You sure?" the other one says.

"Yeah... shit, this day is a nightmare. Who cares, this is all shit," the boy in front of me spits.

He takes the last step towards me, supported by the stick, and puts his free hand around my upper arm, gripping tightly. "Let's bring him back to the cage," he sighs, sounding defeated.

The two boys lead me back to the tree where I tried to escape and then past it, turning sharply behind some huge bushes. In front of us lies a cave entry, about 8 feet high and wide that leads a few yards into the cave. Everything behind it seems to be pitch black, it looks unnatural, it can't be that dark only a few yards into the cave. When we get closer, I see that it is in fact unnatural. They somehow managed to hang a black, heavy looking curtain in their entry way that I didn't notice the few times that I must have past it before.

The taller one who is still shorter than I am, holds back the thick fabric for us to walk through.

I still can't believe they are letting me keep off the blindfold, it was the worst thing about the past two days. If they are going to keep me here, I'm glad it is without the blindfold.

Maybe that way I can also find a way to actually escape.

Behind the curtain, the cave tunnel slightly bends left. If it wasn't for a dim light coming from somewhere in front of us, I am sure we would not be able to see our hands in front of our faces.

As we come closer to the light, the cave walls move further and further away from us until we are standing in a huge cave that is lit by various fireplaces, the biggest one in the middle. About 10 kids, my age and younger (way younger), are sitting on logs all around it or at a very home-made looking table, right where the cave starts narrowing down again, building another tunnel.

This is not a place where I would want to live. It is dark and cold and doesn't look very cozy.

When we enter the cave, every eye lands on me within seconds, I can even hear some gasps. Why, thanks, what a warm welcome.

As we walk towards the big fireplace in the middle of the cave, a slender blonde guy gets up from the log and looks at us with his jaw almost on the floor.

"Damn, what happened?" he yells over to us. I recognize his voice immediately. If it wasn't his voice, it would have been his thick Irish accent that told me who it is. It's... well it is that guy that I still don't know the name of, the one that was particularly nice to me, visiting me a few times just to talk.

"Can you help bring him back to his cell, please?" the leader of this gang says to the Irish guy, releasing his grip on my arm. "I just need... I don't want to see him anymore," he says, in a low voice, when the blonde is standing right in front of us.

He leaves us without another word, the second the blonde guy nods and puts a hand on my shoulder, helping the one that tackled me down to lead me away from the others.

"S'up, pool owner," he says with a big smile on his face, "got us into some trouble I see?"

I look at him sideways and a choked chuckle escapes my mouth. "Um," I say. Why must I be so bad at talking?

"You think we can tell him our names now?" he turns to the boy on my other side.

The one with the darker hair starts frowning and a pout forms on his lips, seeming to decide something in his head.

"I'm not sure if he's going to be too happy about it," he hums, clearly referring to their boss. Then he looks at me. "But what else could go wrong now? I'm not even sure how we're going to go on from here. So what the hell," he says.

"Great," the blonde guy cheers and turns to me, "Hi Harry, my name's Niall, pleasure to meet you. And that is Liam." He points to the other boy.

I can't help but smile. This guy really makes me feel like I am not a prisoner after all. "Hi Niall, pleasure to meet you, too," I joke, "Oh, and hello Liam, also... I'm sorry that I tried to escape."

Liam smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. "No you're not," he murmurs, "That was the second time now."

I look to the ground. The first time I tried to escape, I ran through the tunnels that we are walking through right now. I realize how stupid that was. I wouldn't even know where we came from if I could escape now, with all these tunnel branches we walked through in the past five minutes.

"Yeah, but we understand, of course," Niall says.

We turn around a corner and find ourselves in front of another thick curtain. We walk through it and I see a small cave with a fireplace and a dog cage in it. Here we are, I guess.

Two teenage boys sit next to the fire, they are probably the ones that were guarding me today. I don't even know why I need to be guarded if I get locked into that small cage in the corner of the cave, anyway.

I really don't want to go back in there. My joints have started to hurt some time last night and I feel so helpless sitting in there, but I have no other choice than to obey and let myself get locked in again.

"You can have a bath tonight, Harry. We'll get you some fresh clothes before then," the boy with the darker hair, Liam, says before he disappears through the curtain.

But I really don't want a bath and new clothes. I want to get out of here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Louis' POV**

"Are you sure, you don't want to go have a drink at The Iron Oak?" Zayn says when we enter the street of Burke's cyber cafe.

"Yeah," I say casually, as if I just wasn't that interested, "I'm not really in the mood for that crowd today." Truth is, I hate going there. Not because of the crowd but because of the memories I have of that particular bar. It's not that I haven't been there anymore in the past 7 years, but I just always feel uncomfortable and stressed out when I go there. I can't stop myself from worrying about seeing one of the faces of that night that I keep dreaming about.

"Alright, I wanted to show you something, anyways," Zayn smiles proudly as we arrive in front of Burke's, pointing at the front window of the store.

My eyes widen as I turn to look at it.

The shop window isn't see-through anymore like it was before. It is spray-painted in multiple colors. There is so much going on, at first I don't see anything but colors, but it immediately screams Zayn to me. I have seen many of his works. He loves painting, drawing, being creative.

So this is what he got the pack of cigarettes for.

I take a few steps back to be able to see better and my heart begins to quicken in worry.

I can see the huge capitalized "B" for Burke in the middle of the window now, but that's not what makes me worry. What makes me worry is what is sprayed on the very right of the window, directly next to the shop door. It shows a big "no entry" sign in red. Various words are written across it in black letters:

blimps

knockos

fags

sewer rats

double baggers

I try to ignore the word in the middle and look at Zayn.

"Are you crazy?" I say in an alarmed tone. "What if people find out that you're the one who painted that?"

Zayn only shrugs with a proud smirk. The window _does_ look amazing, everything Zayn paints looks amazing, but I don't return his smile either way.

"Sewer rats, Zayn?" I say and shove his shoulder lightly to pretend like I'm not too worried, "You know the Creepers hate that nickname." They are living in the sewer tunnels under the city, and always have.

"That's why Burke wanted me to use it, he hates them just as much," Zayn says.

"So, how do you like my new window?" Burke calls over to us as we enter his cyber cafe.

"Love it," I say and force a smile, "nice touch with the "keep out" sign."

 _Fag_ , a voice in my head says and I clench my jaw and try to push the thought away.

Zayn and I sit down on one of the many couches in the back of the shop, it always smells like hookah in here. Zayn pulls out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and throws it on the small coffee table in front of us.

"We wanted to smoke them as a celebration tonight," he huffs, sounding annoyed.

"I know," I say, shaking my head, "I'm not even in the mood for them anymore."

"I think we need something better tonight," Zayn says, patting my knee lightly.

He leans over me to see the front of the shop, calling out: "Burke!"


	9. Chapter Nine

**Louis' POV**

Zayn and I went to The Iron Oak after all.

It was easier for him to persuade me after we both got a little high at Burke’s. It just didn't seem as bad of an idea to go anymore. At that time, it actually sounded like an adventure to me.

But when we got there the anxiety kicked in.

Zayn found some old man in a quiet corner of the pub, with a long, grey beard, who smelled like mold and old skin. But he kept buying us drinks as long as we "listened" to his weird stories. He talked about his dancing goat for a good while, as far as I can recall. Zayn and I weren't really in a state to listen closely, we kept laughing about the way his beard was wiggling while he spoke and I am pretty sure Zayn fell off his stool twice. Or maybe it was me.

Nevertheless, that weird man couldn't distract my mind from the unease that place caused me, heightened by the effects of the drug I consumed earlier that night.

It felt like every second person in that pub was staring at me knowingly and it didn't help that our table was right next to the restrooms. Every time somebody went through that door, I turned my head away, so I wouldn't be able to actually look inside. And I'd have rather pissed myself in the middle of the pub than actually used the facilities there.

One time I wasn't fast enough at turning my head and I looked right at the sinks of the men's room. The mirrors there showed the opposite side of the room. Several urinals and just one single cubicle lined the opposite wall.

Seeing that cubicle brought back everything I've tried to push out of my mind completely in the past 7 years. It never really worked, but this time was one of the worse times.

I could practically feel the stranger's lips on mine, his scruffy chin grazing my jawline, my mouth exploring the length of his hard-on, only the fabric of his boxers between us and then, after I pulled those down too, nothing separating our skin anymore-

And, shit, why was I even picturing that again? Why am I picturing it now? It's wrong, so wrong, and I know it. I've learnt my lesson, okay?

I'm lying in my bed, three hours after returning from the pub. And it's all I could do since then. Lie here and hate myself for going back to the pub, despite knowing better. Hate myself for letting my mind travel back to those images, and most of all, hate myself for actually _liking_ them.

And it's all _his_ fault. Only because of that rich kid, me and Zayn didn't stick to cigarettes earlier this night. Only because of that rich kid, I got too high to remember that I hate going to the Oak. And only because he reminds me of what I _am_ every single time I look at him, all those restroom images came back to me tonight.

That's it! I'm going to tell him off. Right now. Who does he think he is, coming here with his puppy eyes and pouty lips, squashing all my hard work of being normal?

I jump off my mattress and make my way to the storage part of the cave, taking my torch with me, like always.

Everything is quiet around here, nobody is up. No wonder, it's probably like 4 in the morning.

When I reach the room where we are keeping the prisoner, I see Liam and Carlos leaning against the wall next to the fireplace, eyes closed. Carlos seems to be dead to the world, but Liam is still sitting in a rather poised position, he is probably just resting his eyes.

I look over to Harry, his eyes are closed too. Not for long, though.

I walk towards Liam and kick his foot with mine.

He jumps a little before he looks up at me, his elbow falling from his knee.

"Leave," I growl under my breath and jerk my head in the direction of the curtain.

Liam frowns at me but extends his arm to shake Carlos' shoulder.

As they both walk past me, Liam stops and tentatively puts a hand on my shoulder. "You alright?" he whispers, so Carlos can't hear.

"I will be," I answer and turn my head to look at the cage.

With a little squeeze, Liam's hand leaves my shoulder and then the two boys are gone.

Now that I am alone with Harry, I don't really know what I wanted to do in the first place. My eyes are fixed on his face as I make a hesitant step towards him.

His hair looks washed and overall he looks more groomed than the last time I saw him. He is also wearing new clothes. A loose, dark red shirt and black, tight jeans. Really tight jeans. Well that's just great. Really helps me to concentrate.

I gather my thoughts while walking the rest of the way and tap the top of the cage a few times when I reach it.

Harry's eyes flutter open slowly. He squints at me and scrunches up his face in confusion.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**Harry's POV**

At first I only see a bright light in front of my face. As my eyes slowly adjust to the brightness, I see that it is the flame of a torch, held by a figure standing next to my cage. It doesn't take long to recognize him, but I'm not sure whether I am dreaming or not. It doesn't feel like I've been asleep for more than a few hours. Why is he waking me up?

"Louis?" My voice cracks in the end, still thick with sleep.

"Wha... How do you know my name?" he says, sounding startled.

"Niall told me," I explain. The Irish kid guarded me last night, while I took a bath. It was awkward but at least I don't feel sticky anymore.

" _Niall_ told you," he repeats, deadpan, "of course he did."

"What are you doing here?" I wonder, rubbing my eyes and sitting up.

He doesn't answer for a while, looking like he doesn't really know himself. "What game are you playing?" he finally says.

What the hell is he talking about?

"It's _your_ game," I frown, looking up at Louis.

"What do you mean?"

" _You_ guys put me here. I never asked for it," I say, feeling anger rising up in my chest. I hate being held captive, and he asks me what game _I_ am playing?

"I'm not playing any game. I want to get out of here," I continue, "You are locking me in, you are blindfolding me and tying my hands. My joints are killing me, I can't move. I'd have loved to get out of here after you got that money and we all would have been happy, but now I'm probably going to stay here till I rot. It's not _my_ game, Louis. I don't want this."

I can see some emotion scrunching up his features, but it's gone before I can figure out what it was.

"I can't let you go," he says quietly.

And I know he means that he can't let his prisoner leave but his words make something twist inside my chest and all the anger I felt before, is gone.

"I know," I manage to say. I don't like what they are doing, but I've quickly realized that this gang does it because they feel like they have no other option.

At my words, Louis puts down the torch and sits in front of me, legs crossed.

"Why are you in this gang," I say hesitantly.

Louis only looks back at me with big eyes.

"I mean, um," I suddenly feel insecure about my question, "How did you end up here?"

Louis crosses his arms immediately and scoffs. "I'm not going to tell you about my family, Styles," he laughs, but it sounds irritated.

"Alright," I nod, "I'm going to tell you about mine then," I smile at him.

He doesn't react, only stares to the ground.

"My dad has a huge agribusiness, he develops completely new systems to grow crops in a healthy and environmental way, as you already know," I say.

Louis rolls his eyes, but a smirk creeps onto his lips. "Snob," he repeats his insult from the other day.

I smile at him. "My mom worked as a journalist when she met my dad, but now she works at home, writing her column for The Prestige every month," I tell him, "And did you know that I have a sister?"

"Yes, I do," Louis says, sounding almost bored but maybe a tiny bit amused. "You probably don't even realize how much I know about you and your family," he continues, "I mean, we did study you guys for quite a few months now."

I feel my eyes widen, I don't know how to feel but my heart is starting to quicken.

"You _watched_ my family?" My voice sounds higher than usually, it sounds strange. "Did you enter our yard?"

"We entered your house," Louis smirks.

"No," I shake my head. "We use one of the best security systems around," I assure him.

"Says the guy that leaves all the windows and doors wide open while being alone at home, walking around half naked and singing upbeat pop songs at the top of his voice," Louis laughs, looking like he is utterly enjoying himself, "You know, I've never seen anyone have a shower as long as you do."

He doesn't stop laughing.

I feel my cheeks heating up, thinking back at all the times I did just what he described. That's what I do when I am home alone. A chill runs down my spine as I imagine people being in my house at those times, watching me.

"W-what did you do in my house?" I ask, already scared of the answer.

Louis smirks at me again. "Going through your undies of course," he says.

My jaw drops and I am sure the boy in front of me can clearly see my pink cheeks.

"God, Styles, who do you think we are?" he laughs at my reaction.

A shaky laugh escapes my mouth, until I catch myself and try to pretend like I was simply clearing my throat. By the look he's giving me, I know I've failed.

"We went through your parents study to see if your family fits us and if we maybe already find some money lying around," he explains, "Oh, and we stole some food and batteries, each time we visited."

I try to remember any food being amiss in the past few months but I can't recall one single time. We have so much of everything, I think it'd even go unnoticed if one of our dogs would ever be stolen.

"You're welcome, I guess," I smile shyly.

"I hope you're not expecting payment, because there won't be any," Louis chuckles.

"Didn't think so," I say, chuckling too.

"Good," he smiles. I think it's a genuine smile. The corners of his eyes crinkle and his teeth are showing. Something about it makes me stop and smile back at him.

"Well, whatever," he suddenly says and gets up, smile disappearing from his face.

He picks up his torch and turns around, walking back to the curtain without looking at me again. My heart sinks a little. Didn't we just kind of laugh together? What did I do wrong now?

I almost let out a groan of frustration but right before he disappears through the curtain, he turns around and smiles at me once more.

"Sleep tight, Harry," he hums gently, and then he is gone.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Louis' POV**

Niall called for a meeting tonight. A meeting means our four captains come together and talk, pretty much what we always do. Our captains are the four eldest males of our gang; Niall, Liam, Zayn, and I.

I have no idea what Niall wants to talk about that needs to be labelled as "official" because I haven't been home all day. Zayn and I were out hunting for the entire day. But all we were able to shoot were two ducks and three squirrels which is nothing really. Ducks are made out of a lot of fat and meat, but squirrels are all skin and bones. That's not very much for almost 30 hungry stomachs. It's getting rather frustrating lately.

In all these 2 years that I've been the leader of the Sparrows, food was hard to come by. But recently we've only been able to gather enough food because we raided food transporters or stole from the shops _every other day_. It's our only alternative to feed all these kids but it's also so risky to resort to that strategy so often. It only increases our chance of getting shot or stabbed, or actually being caught by the police.

So, being out hunting for the whole day and coming home with basically no kill made my mood drop hard. Which sucks because I actually woke up quite content this morning, remembering my conversation with a certain curly-haired boy, just a few hours before.

We need to get that ransom money, and soon.

Niall, Zayn and I are sitting in our usual spots in the main hall, grilling our pathetic haul of the day over the camp fire.

"Guys, you have _no_ idea what I learnt at the office today," Liam burst out when he plops down next to Niall.

"Like what? How to shoot stray puppies whenever the job gets too boring?" Zayn jokes, turning the ducks on the rotisserie over the fire.

"Oh, you know that's already been part of the admission test, Zayn," Liam scoffs dismissively.

"What is it?" Niall says, clearly eager to start the meeting.

"Chapman updated me on what happened at the station yesterday," Liam says.

Everyone goes silent, but Liam only stares back at us.

"So?" Zayn says while I jerk my shoulders up, telling him to go the hell on.

"I probably start at the abduction day," Liam suggests.

"The abduction day?" Niall says, "What does that have to do with anything?"

Liam looks at me. "I already told you, Louis," he begins, "I saw a Grey Skin at the office that day."

"I remember," I say and furrow my brows in concentration.

"He tipped them off, apparently," he murmurs, "He hinted that there's something ‘interesting’ going on around town at the moment and that they should be watching out for a video for more information."

"Wait a minute..." Niall starts.

"Yes, Niall," Liam nods, "looks like they got their hands on it. Or maybe someone else. But it's online now, I've seen it."

"No way," Zayn groans.

I take an extra-large gulp of my beer. This video has been shot in our cave, our shelter could be discovered faster now. It's not that hard to find a cave of this size if you really want to.

"That's probably how the Creepers found out, too," Niall says, "I mean the goddamned thing is on the internet now!"

"Can we get it down again?" I look at Zayn who has spent the most time at Burke's cyber cafe out of the four of us.

He shakes his head, though. "Wouldn't know how," he mutters, looking down to the ground with a frown on his face.

Then his head shoots up. "At Burke's is the only place where the Grey Skins could have gotten their hands on the tape," he says and looks at me pointedly. "Before we got there, it has only ever been on the camera, and after, it has only been on the stick that we put in Styles' mail box. And we watched him carry it into the house himself."

I nod while he talks. I agree with him but I don't get it. "How did the Grey Skins get it then?" I wonder.

"You can hack into other computers and access files that are on there if you've got the know-how," Liam explains, "Especially easy if the computers are connected the way they are in cyber cafes."

Niall curses under his breath and looks at me. "What now?" he says with a stern expression, it's such a rare look on him.

I only shake my head and pinch my lower lip between my thumb and index finger.

"The guy that I stepped in for, the night Harry's father called the office, he worked on a pressing case, remember?" Liam says like it just came to his mind, "He was working on finding the video."

"Why the fuck did that moron Burke invite Grey Skins into his shop, in the first place?" Zayn huffs and kicks some wood further into the camp fire so that a jet of flame darts high up into the air.

Liam reassuringly puts a hand on Zayn's knee and squeezes it. "He probably didn't invite them, man," he murmurs, "and it's done now. Nothing we can do."

Zayn shakes his head, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

"Yeah, so," Niall begins, sounding slightly uncomfortable, "what's done is done, right? Like, can we... get to the real subject of the meeting now?"

"Meeting? Did I miss something?" Liam's head quirks up.

"Niall called for a meeting," I inform Liam with a smirk, "Don't know when we re-established that tradition. Must be something _really_ important."

"Fuck off, Tommo," Niall counters, not taking my snide remark seriously, "And as a matter of fact, it is important."

Liam sips on his beer, hiding his amused expression behind the bottle. "Go on then," he smiles at Niall as he puts the bottle back down.

"It's about Harry," Niall says. He looks at all of us individually, first Zayn, then Liam, and finally me, staring intensely. He knows me.

I roll my eyes. "What about him?" I ask him, making my voice sound as bored as possible.

"I talked to him today-"

"Of course you did," I say under my breath.

Niall only pauses for a short second, looking at me, before he continues. "And he's really uncomfortable, he says his entire body hurts. It also doesn't look like a very pleasant place to be locked up in, all day."

Harry mentioned that to me too, last night. I haven't seen him since then, and honestly, I'm a little scared to go there again. I bet he expects me to like him now because we had a laugh there for once, but I don't like him. I was still effected by the drug and alcohol I consumed that night.

"He can't stay in there forever, Louis," Niall finishes.

"Well, we can't just let him run around on his own," I grunt, "He's going to make a run for it, that's for sure."

In my peripheral vision I can see Liam nod his head in agreement which encourages me further.

"He's going to have to suck it up, I guess. Can't help him." With that, I expect the conversation to be over, but obviously not to Niall.

"Are you listening to yourself, mate?" Niall says, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. His face turns red so fast and often, it's fascinating. It happens when he laughs really hard (which is all the time), when he's embarrassed, when he gets angry, or when he's uncomfortable. This time it definitely is anger.

"We keep him here, against his will," he says, looking at me in anger, "longer then we intended to. He didn't do anything wrong, he is being polite and obedient, and it's not fair. We wouldn't even keep a dog in that cage."

"We wouldn't keep a dog period," I cut in.

"Would _you_ want to be treated like this?" Niall says to me.

"No, but I'm living in a freaking cave, nibbling on the right butt cheek of a squirrel instead," I say, poking at one of the skinned rodents over the fire with the long stick that still helps me walk.

"But it's not Harry's fault," Niall argues.

"But it damn well _is_ his fault that he already tried to escape twice in like, what, three days? Four?" I say, my pulse starting to rise.

Niall rolls his eye and seems like he is about to say something but Liam beats him to it.

"I think he's right, Niall," he says quietly, like he doesn't really want to say it, "We've decided to go on with the plan and keep him here with us. And decisions have consequences, and we have to deal with them. We can't give him the chance to escape."

"Exactly," I agree.

"But I don't get it," Niall doesn't comply, "How long are you guys planning on keeping him in there? Weeks, months?"

"What alternative is there, though?" Liam asks.

"If we have to keep him captive like all of you seem to be voting for, at least let him move and walk around," Niall says, his voice sounding almost pleading now. "He could be sticking with the four of us at all times," he suggests.

I bark out a loud laugh at that, making Zayn smile.

"So that _we_ have to deal with him all the time?" I say in disbelief, "Doubt that, Horan, really heavily doubt that."

Zayn clears his throat and shifts on his spot next to me. "Well, technically we already have to deal with him all the time," he says, scratching the underside of his chin, "We always guard him anyway."

I look at Zayn with the same disbelief I directed at Niall, before. I don't even know how to respond to that, I open my mouth and close it again twice. I can't help but feel a twinge of betrayal, Zayn is always on my side.

"That is true, though," Liam hums on my other side. I only shake my head.

"To be honest, I'm so tired of sitting there all day, doing nothing," Zayn continues, "Whoever is on guard duty just wastes their time back there all day, and it's boring me to death."

"But it'll be so much more work with him around all the time," I argue, but I know it's a weak counter.

"He could actually be quite helpful, now that I think about it," Liam says, trying to make eye contact with me, but I stare into the fire.

"He eats our food, he uses our water," he says, "He should earn it."

"He shouldn't need to earn it, but whatever," Niall mumbles.

Liam looks at him with kind eyes. "It could be a win-win situation," he says to him.

Niall's face lights up and I start tapping the end of my crutch on the floor in front of me repeatedly.

"What do you say, Louis?" Niall asks, obviously trying to hide his excitement and failing.

I let out a long groan without looking back at him. "Does it even matter?" I say.

"Sure does," he says, "You're the boss, you call the shots."

"Yeah," I scoff, "but you guys are going to kick my ass if I don't take your opinions into consideration."

"That might well happen, mate," Zayn says with a snicker.

When the other two start to chuckle, I can't help but smile too, so I turn to my side and shove Zayn off the log with a laugh.

"So?" Liam says, after he helped Zayn back up.

I shake my head in resignation. "Okay," I groan again, "but we put him back in there at night, I won't let him keep me from my much needed sleep."

"YES!" Niall yells and jumps up.

We all look up at him, all different expressions on our faces. Liam seems amused, Zayn a bit weirded out by the strange Irish fella, and my face must show the annoyance I feel for being let down by all three of them, while I try to keep the smile off my face.

"I'll tell him now," Niall exclaims, already running off. About 20 seconds after he vanished into one of the tunnels we can all here him, faintly but distinctively:

"HARREEEEEEHH!"


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Harry's POV**

"HARREEEEEHH!"

I hear Niall’s voice booming through the tunnels, long before he yanks the red curtain to the side and appears in my little prison with a big, fat smile on his face.

He stands there and looks at me with wide, joyous eyes while his whole body is heaving with his heavy breathing. He must have run here.

"Harry," Niall exclaims again, this time a lot calmer. It sounds final, like he has been searching for me for ages and finally found me.

I chuckle in amusement. "What's up, Niall?" I say.

"We're letting you out!" he cheers and throws his hands in the air.

My heart jumps.

"What?" I say at the same time the Spanish looking guy does. He has been guarding me for the past few hours. He doesn't talk much, at least not to me.

Niall turns to him and shakes his head. "Only at daytime," he says and my heart sinks again, "Louis agreed to let him walk around with us."

Wow, for a minute there, I actually believed they would let me go for real.

Niall starts walking towards the other guy. "We haven't had dinner yet. I think we can start now," he winks at me and holds his hand out to the guy on the floor.

He only looks back at Niall with a confused expression on his face.

"The keys, Carlos," Niall laughs. So his name _is_ Carlos. "How am I supposed to get Harry out of there?"

When Niall starts to unlock my cage, excitement starts to build in my chest. Yes, I won't be free and I'm still their prisoner, but I will only have to come back here for the nights. I can actually use my legs again and do something else then counting the bars of the cage over and over again. There are 32 of them, and it hasn't changed since I got here.

The lock clicks and Niall opens the cage door. It's not the first time I got out of this hole, I have been out twice a day plus the bath I was allowed yesterday. But this time feels different, it feels like getting a part of my freedom back.

Niall helps me out and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey brother," he smiles and moves to my back to start untying my hands.

I only stare at Carlos who stares back at me with the same perplexed expression that my own face is probably wearing right now.

What is it about this kid that treats me like an old friend? Sometimes I'm not quite sure if he is for real or just messing with me, laughing behind my back.

"You're untying him?" Carlos' eyes flicker over my shoulder to Niall.

"Yeah, why not?" I hear Niall's voice right behind me.

"Err, I don't know," Carlos says, finally getting up from the ground. "He could try to strangle someone or get his hands on a knife and stab you," he says, at which Niall only laughs.

"Harry? Nah, Harry's cool," he says, but then his fingers go still as he pauses, "You're cool, right?" he hums and I'm pretty sure he is talking to me now, so I nod my head quickly.

"He's cool," Niall repeats.

A moment later, I can feel the harsh rope falling from my wrists. It's such a good feeling but my skin feels raw and itchy. I bring my hands together in front of my chest and carefully rub my wrists to help the pain subside. I feel giddy while walking in between the two other boys, even though my joints still hurt and my shoulders are still so tight that the soreness radiates through my whole upper body.

"Here we are, Harry. We call it the Main Hall," Niall tells me when we get to the big cave hall with the multiple fireplaces.

This time, there are a lot more people around. It is rather loud in here, all the voices echoing through the cave. At the big table to my right, there are about ten kids, looking no older then 12, and a handful of older girls, sitting with them. There are more people spread throughout the cave, though. How many members does this gang have?

As we make our way over to their central fireplace, I instantly spot their feathery-haired leader, sitting on a log with a bottle of beer in his hand, his home-made crutch lying beside him.

Liam is sitting with him, and also an extremely handsome dark-haired boy that I haven't seen before. When he turns his big round eyes up to us, he looks slightly surprised and taps Louis' leg to gain his attention.

Liam and Louis both follow the dark-haired boy's eyes at the same time, and now they are all looking at me in surprise. Guess they didn't know Niall would already bring me back with him.

Carlos, Niall, and I sit down on the other side of the campfire.

Liam gets up, more or less dragging the dark-haired guy with him to get us some food, and Niall and Carlos start talking to each other with hushed words that I can't quite catch. So I just sit next to them, not knowing what to do with myself. I feel weird, just casually hanging out with the people that hold me captive.

When I see that Louis is still looking at me, I smile at him and he gives me the tiniest of smiles in return but averts his gaze quickly.

I should have known that he won't be overly friendly to me all of a sudden, only because we may have had a moment or something, last night. Still, my smile grows at his reaction. Does he not realize how easily I can see that it's all an act on his part? Last night I saw the real Louis and his genuine smile. He isn't the tough and indifferent person he is making himself out to be.

Liam and the other guy come back with two plates of buttered bread and a cup of tea which the dark-haired boy hands me with a polite smile.

"Thanks, uh," I say, taking the cup and loving the heat that instantly starts warming my hands.

"Zayn," he says.

"Zayn," I repeat, "Thanks."

"So," Zayn says loudly as he sits down again, "should we maybe go through some rules while Harry's here?"

"Yeah, good idea," Liam agrees. He is currently removing some sort of cooked fowl from the rotisserie that is placed over the fire in front of us and puts it on a spare plate.

"Rule number one," he says, ripping off a few chunks of meat and distributing them to everyone around the campfire, "No matter how little foot we have, we always share equally." When he is done, he takes the rest of the meat and some cooked animals that actually look like rodents, and brings them over to all those kids at their big make-shift table.

"Rule number two, we all help out," Zayn says.

"For example tomorrow," Louis chips in, "You can help me and Liam cut some firewood. We're running out of it."

"We're always running out of everything," Niall says to me, quietly.

"Rule number three, and this applies specifically to you, Harry," Liam who has already returned to us, says, "You always need to stay with one of the captains."

"Captains?" I wonder, after swallowing a piece of their bread. The consistency is sticky and it tastes, well it doesn't have a taste really.

"These four sound lads here," Carlos explains with a smirk, gesturing towards Niall, Zayn, Liam, and Louis, "They're our captains, they're in charge around here."

"Am I allowed to decide myself with whom I stay at what time?" I ask, my eyes automatically flickering over to Louis who is looking back at me.

"Of course you can, mate," Niall says matter-of-factly, bumping his fist to the side of my leg.

"Depending on the work you're supposed to be helping with," Liam says.

"But you're going back in your cell, at night," Louis adds, his voice sounding deeper than usually and a little throaty, so he coughs slightly.

"So I've heard," I reply and look down at my plate, trying to push down my annoyance at that rule.

After a while, the hall begins to turn quieter and when I look around, I see that a lot of the younger kids have left. At some point Louis has gotten up from his log, to join Niall, Carlos, and me. I really don't contribute much to their conversation other than the occasional smile I give Niall in return while they talk.

Two blonde girls and a brunette join our group around the fire, bringing the left-over food from the table. One of the blonde girls looks about 14 and the other two around my age.

The older one of the two blondes sits down right next to Zayn and he puts his arm around her shoulder immediately. Niall tells me that her name is Perrie and that the two have been a couple for years now.

"The girls look after the kids and cook for us," Niall tells me, "Oh, and if you have clothes that need to be washed, give them to Beth over there." He gestures over to the brunette girl that is now sitting in Louis' old spot between Liam and Zayn. I really don't know how to keep up with all the new names.

"Such modern standards," I say under my breath, apparently to quiet for Niall to hear. He doesn't react, but picks up a tiny piece of wood from the camp fire and throws it over the flames to Beth, hitting her head. She looks up at us and flips Niall off with a smirk, at which he winks back at her. Then he turns his head away as Carlos hands him the left-overs.

"We don't really have a choice, you know," I hear Louis' voice say, almost as quietly as my comment was before.

I turn to my other side to look at him. He is sitting next to me, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands tightly folded together.

"What do you mean?" I ask him in a low voice, I don't even know why we are talking so quietly.

"I know it's a rather traditional role allocation but it works for us," he says with a half-smile, he looks almost apologetic. "We're not really in a position to be considerate like that, you know. It's more important for us to live our lives as easy and efficient as we can. And it just makes sense to have the duties strictly divided. Everybody knows what their job is and it's easier to learn how to be more efficient at your job if you can concentrate on one thing instead of everything."

When I don't answer he sighs and pushes his hair off his forehead, he has incredibly perfect skin. I feel somewhat self-conscious looking at it, I bet he never had a spot in his life.

"Look," he says and narrows his eyes at me when he catches me examining his face, "It's not like we treat our girls without respect or something. Our role allocation is just about the stuff that needs to be done around here."

Before I can respond, Zayn and his girlfriend get up and he takes her hand in his.

"We're off, guys," he calls to nobody in particular.

"Leaving the party early, ey," Carlos hollers and some of the others start howling.

Zayn puts his arm around the waist of his giggling girlfriend while they are walking off. His hand travels down to her bum and gropes it, turning around at us with a smirk. At that they start laughing and howling again.

When the two are gone, the snickering and laughing doesn't stop.

"They are exclusive?" I ask Louis, just because I feel weird sitting next to everybody without talking.

Louis nods his head. "Yeah, I think so," he hums, "I guess Zayn would tell me if he was shagging some other girls, too."

"Are there others?" I ask, not looking at him. "I mean are there other couples in your gang?" I clarify.

"Mhh, no. Not really," Louis says after a second, "Some of the others hook up occasionally, but nothing like Zayn and Perrie."

"Some of the _others_?" I catch on immediately, "You don't?"

A smirk appears on his face before he answers. "Not really your business, Styles, is it?" he says slowly.

"You're not giving me an answer? Is it that bad? Nobody wants you?" I innocently smile back at him.

I see something flicker over his face but he never stops smiling. "What do you think?" He jokingly gestures up and down his body.

I follow his hands and start looking at him more observantly. He is sitting right now and it is getting darker and darker as the fire dies down, so I can't really get a good look at him but I've seen him enough to fill in the gaps. He is short, well a good few inches shorter than I, and his hands look small too, now that I look at them. When he picks up his beer that he still hasn't finished, and I see his little hand curl around the bottle, I feel the need to grab his hands and hold them in mine. But I don't.

Instead, I turn my gaze to his thighs which look rather strong and have the perfect shape. When I look back to his face, I don't even know where to begin. His sharp cheek bones shape his face beautifully, his lips look soft and pink, and his stubble makes him look rough and unruly. But I am captivated the most by his deep, blue eyes that look back at me with a glint. Every girl would want him, that's for sure.

When I realize how long I have been staring, I blink a few times and smile at him again.

"You're definitely shagging them all," I chuckle and stop myself from letting my eyes travel again.

"Oh, if only you knew," Louis smirks.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Louis' POV**

We have to walk about a mile into the forest to reach the stack of wood in a little hand-made canopy where it sits to dry. We thought it'd be too obvious to place the stack in immediate proximity of our cave.

I still need my crutch to walk but I can stand on my injured leg again, to some extent.

"Harry, you're going to bring Louis the wood and pile up the pieces over here when he's cut it," Liam says and continues talking while he walks away, "I'll see if I can find more trees to use as firewood."

I raise my eyebrows at Harry. "He's going to be a great leader when Zayn and I are gone," I joke.

"Gone? Like um, dead?" Harry's voice sounds hesitant, but still so dark and heavy.

I laugh and wield around the axe in my hand. "Not dead, just gone," I reply, "Have you ever seen someone old in one of the gangs?"

"I..." Harry begins, "Well, I actually don't really come across gangs all that often." He scratches his neck, awkwardly standing in front of me.

Seemingly only because of his discomfort, he goes to the stack of wood and brings a large piece back to me and puts it down on the chopping block in front of me. I hold the piece of wood in place and take aim before looking back to Harry.

"Meaning, you try to ignore us as best as you can because your mommy told you what lousy people we are," I conclude and strike down at the wood, but it slips out of position and I end up only cutting half of it. It's still too large to handle on my own.

"No! No, not at all," Harry says almost frantically and puts his hands around one end of the wood to hold it in place. I give him an appreciative look and chop down again.

"I don't think you are lousy people," Harry says and gives me a smile that I choose to ignore.

"So you're going to leave them?" he asks, after we chopped the wood into three equal pieces and I started chopping them further on my own.

"Eventually," I hum.

"When?" Harry asks, which is exactly the question that I have been asking myself, for a while now. Most of our former members left between 18 and 23, some even earlier.

"Dunno," I say, handing the cut pieces of wood to Harry who started piling them up already.

"As soon as there is an opportunity, a job, a friend on the outside," I wipe my sleeve over my forehead that has already started to collect some sweat, "Maybe I'll just get bored with them and leave."

"What will you do then?" Harry wonders, looking at my forehead with a funny expression.

"You ask a lot of questions today, Styles," I note with a frown.

When Harry brings another uncut piece of wood from the stack and lays it down on the chopping block, he keeps his hands around it from the start to hold it in place.

"You know what," I decide, hitting the axe into the chopping block to make it stick, "I need a break while Liam's not here. Your turn."

I gesture to the axe and take one of the cigarettes that Zayn surrendered to me out of my denim jacket. When I start lighting it, I realize that Harry still hasn't moved and is simply looking at me.

"You want one?" I ask him with the unlit smoke still between my lips, even though I'd rather not share with him.

Harry shakes his head and finally takes his eyes off of me and seizes the axe. "I don't really smoke..." Harry replies before starting to cut the wood. He doesn't even need me to hold it in place. His hands are so much bigger than mine.

"You don't?" I say a bit surprised. Rich people are normally all about consuming things.

"It's not really healthy, is it?" he says and pauses to look at me as I take a drag, smirking at him.

"Oh," I raise an eyebrow at him, still with the smirk on my face, "you're one of those."

"One of who?" He seems distracted.

In the distance I can hear a loud crack and then a dull sound of impact. Liam seems to have found a suitable tree.

"One of those healthy independent hipster people," I say.

"I'm not a hipster," Harry chuckles and starts piling up the firewood that he has cut, doing all the work by himself now.

"No, you aren't," I agree, "We wouldn't have chosen you if you were one."

Harry's forehead scrunches up in confusion while he is still working on the current log. "Why that?" he says, his breath sounding heavier by the minute.

 "'Cos I wouldn't like you then," I shrug and immediately realize what I just said, wishing I could swallow my words back down again.

Harry stops in the middle of taking a swing with the axe in his hands.

"...You-" he begins but I interrupt him.

"Shut it, idiot," I snap and take another drag on my cigarette to show him how much I don't care.

"Did you just-" he starts again, looking at me with big, green eyes. His chest is heaving slightly because of the exertion and the tiny curls in the back of his neck have started sticking to his sweaty skin there.

"I swear to god, if you don't change the topic right now, I'll show you all the things that axe can do," I growl at him.

Harry looks at me for another second as if he was contemplating on whether or not to say something else but then he turns away and chops down at the wood again.

I lean against the tree next to me and finish my cigarette.

"How can you even afford them?" Harry says after a while, "The cigarettes, I mean." And I'm not sure if this is actually "changing the topic" but I reckon it's good enough.

"The same way we can afford _all_ of our stuff, I guess," I say, not bothering to help Harry now that my hands are unoccupied again, instead I just hide them in the pockets of my jacket.

Harry doesn't seem to mind. "You really need my parents' money, don't you," he hums.

"Oh, no," I laugh bitterly, "not really, man. We're just really bored with our lives, is all."

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, I just-"

"Whatever," I stop him. He always apologizes for nothing.

"It's not your fault that we're in this situation," I say, before a smile forms on my lips, "However, you could just relinquish like half of your house to us. You know that I know it's big enough. Same goes for the money, I wouldn't mind sharing _that._ "

"You realize we'd be living together then," Harry chuckles, his cheeks turning slightly pink. He looks adorable like that.

"We are living together now," I remind him. "Imagine, we could be running around your house, singing in only our pants together," I joke.

Harry nearly chokes on his laugh out of embarrassment, blushing even more. "It's not nice to spy on people," he chuckles.

"It was rather hard to miss actually," I smirk and my eyes flicker to the perfect dimples on his cheeks that appear every time he smiles.

"Trusting our prisoner with the axe, I see," I hear Liam's voice and look up. He is carrying two big logs under his arms and has just reached the canopy next to us.

Harry is still giggling a tiny bit. He's actually _giggling_!

When I look at Liam's suspicious face, I compose myself immediately and drop my smile.

"You know me, Payno," I say lightly, "Always trying to help others at being productive."

"You mean, always trying to skive off work," Liam calls, pretending to scold me. He shakes his head with a tiny smile and goes back to where he came from.

"He works for the police, you said?" Harry says when Liam has vanished into the woods.

"Yup," I say, "We're pretty lucky actually. He could've left us as soon as he got the job two years ago. He would be earning enough money to afford an apartment and live on his own, leave the streets, leave this cave. But he stayed, and now we have a tiny bit of income and someone on the inside of that phony and rotten joke of a police."

"How did he get the job?" Harry asks.

He has really started sweating now and his curls have flattened down a bit. I hate myself for it, but I have to admit that he looks absolutely sexy like that. His manly appearance with his muscles and a jawline to die for doesn't really fit to the giggling Harry just a minute ago, but somehow it makes him all the more appealing to me.

I really need to stop having these relapses like when I was 19 and spent my nights sneaking through the window of a guy that was still living with his parents. I stopped that as soon as I saw someone getting his ass kicked for gazing after another dude. It's not uncommon to be beaten up for it or worse, so nobody even tried to help, but I didn't ever sneak into anybody's bed after that again.

"Louis?" Harry says, looking like this wasn't the first time he said my name to pull me back to the present.

"Hm," I hum and blink a few times.

"I think I just lost you there for a minute," he smiles.

"Yeah, sorry. What did you say?" I clear my throat and actually pile up some scattered firewood, just to have something to do.

"I wondered how Liam got his job at the police station," he says, "Don't they only hire people with a degree?"

"Yeah," I say and lean back against the tree again, "Normally they would, but Liam went to school until he was 15 which most of us didn't. They made him do a recruitment test and he passed it with flying colors, he's kind of a Brainiac."

"Why did he leave school at 15?" Harry frowns.

I only raise an eyebrow at him.

"Oh..." he says and quickly looks away, but after just a few seconds he continues talking. Why doesn't that surprise me? He's so curious about everything.

"What-" he says quietly, "Um, what's the reason for Liam to..."

"Not be with his parents anymore?" I finish for him.

I'm not sure if I should answer that. Our pasts are pretty personal topics for all of us, in one way or the other.

"Yeah," Harry says, but I decide not to tell him. It's not my place to talk about Liam's memories of his parents, so I stay quiet.

"Did they..." Harry continues, "Did they pass away?"

I turn my gaze away from his eyes because I can't concentrate, looking at them.

To Harry, my reaction seems to be enough of an answer.

"And yours?" he doesn't stop talking. Why doesn't he stop talking?

"Did your parents die, too?" he says, and it is almost a whisper.

Still, I don't respond to him. When I realize just how much I am clenching my jaw, I try to relax again and look back at Harry.

He looks sad, sad and lost. Like he doesn't know what to do.

I normally hate it when people take pity on me, but in his eyes it doesn't look like pity. He doesn't look at me like the perfect rich guy that has had a family and all he ever wanted for his entire life. The way he looks at me doesn't feel degrading or humiliating. It only feels honest and sad, and _fuck_ I would love his arms around me right now, holding me until the lump in my throat is gone again.

"What's wrong, people?" Liam's voice makes me break eye contact with Harry again, "Go back to work! I don't want to stay here all night."

Harry looks at me for a little longer, giving me a smile before he turns away to chop some more wood.

We finish our work (meaning, Harry and Liam finish it) and spend another hour or so carrying all the new firewood over to the cave where all the kids help bringing it inside.

I don't see Harry much after that. We have dinner and get ready for bed but it's Evan's and my turn to guard Harry tonight, so I see him when Niall escorts him back to the cage again. The cage really looks small and uncomfortable if I'm being totally honest.

And Harry looks miserable going back in.

But he smiles at me and wishes me goodnight before he falls asleep, and I feel a warm bubble growing in my chest.

Evan falls asleep within a heartbeat, but my brain can't seem to shut up, so I just sit there and wait for the night to be over.

After an eternity of altering my gaze form the fire to the curly-haired boy and back to the fire, over and over again, he starts stirring more than he did before.

At first I ignore it because, hell, I'm not really comfortable here on the floor myself, but he tosses and turns like crazy and it's starting to annoy me. He groans every once in a while and there is a deep frown on his face. I can see in how much of a discomfort he is, and I think back on Niall and Harry both telling me how much he's hurting in that cage.

When I hear him letting out a long breath of air that almost sounds like a faint whine, I slump my shoulders and make a decision.

I shake Evan's arm to wake him up and he opens his eyes sleepily.

"It's okay," I whisper, "Go to your bed, I've got this."

He looks at me in question, so I smile at him encouragingly and nod my head.

He gets up immediately and walks away, I bet he is just as happy to spend the rest of the night on a real bed as I am.

When Evan has vanished behind the curtain, I get up and walk over to Harry in the cage.

"Harry," I say in a loud voice, but it comes out softer than I intended.

"Harry, wake up," I repeat as I unlock the cage door.

Harry opens his eyes and blinks a few times before he realizes what's going on. He looks up at me with a baffled expression on his face and his lips fall open slightly.

I open the cage door and take a step back. When he doesn't move, I raise my eyebrows in amusement. "What are you waiting for? Come on."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Harry's POV**

If I would have thought one thing before falling asleep a while ago, it would not have been that Louis wakes me up, opening my cage door.

I don't even understand why. Is he going to let me go home? I don't think so. They made it clear they won't let me go, and Louis will be the last person to let me leave.

But I think I will be grateful for pretty much anything he has in mind for me; my knees, shoulders, and my bum are hurting so much. I thought it would get better if they let me out for the day and I'd only have to sit in this cage at night but somehow it made the pain even worse.

When I try and climb out of the cage, I suddenly see a hand in front of my face and look up to Louis who is looking back at me. So I take his hand and he helps me up. My back is killing me when I come into an upright position and before I know it, I let out a loud pained groan.

"You can call me your hero from now on for getting you out of there," Louis says with a twinkle in his eyes and turns around to put out the small fire of the fireplace on the other side of the "room".

I chuckle softly. "Thank you," I say aloud. _My hero_ , I think to myself.

Louis lights a torch with the remaining fire before he throws a good few handful of sand into the flames of the fireplace.

"What time is it?" I wonder and yawn noisily.

"Harry Edward Styles, did your mom not teach you any manners?" Louis mock scolds me. He then hands me the torch that is now the only source of light, he is still using the crutch for his right knee.

"You know my middle name?" I gape.

"Told you that I know a lot about you," Louis shrugs and starts walking away. He doesn't tell me to follow him but he'd be walking in darkness if I didn't come after him with the torch and I feel like that's not what he wants. So yeah, I might be running a bit to catch up with him.

"What are we doing?" I ask and look at him sideways when I reach him. He really has a nice profile, especially with the light of the fire illuminating his skin against the dark cave wall.

"I'm tired of spending my nights on the floor," is all Louis answers.

After about two minutes we reach a huge cave hall. There are things standing around everywhere, mostly useless or broken things as far as I can see.

Louis determinedly walks towards a big and rather bright rectangle in one corner of the hall and as we get closer I realize that it's three mattresses, leaning upright against the wall.

"Choose," Louis gestures towards them and smiles at me.

I look at the mattresses and back at Louis. "I... I get a mattress to sleep on?" I say in excitement.

"Yeah sure, Harold. Nobody can endure you're constant whining and whimpering, forever," Louis mutters, but I know he's just joking.

Still I feel my cheeks heat up slightly at his words and the nickname. "I wasn't whining," I defend myself, "I'm masculine."

Louis bursts out in laughter before he responds to me. "That you are," he says, and there is something about his tone that is strange when he says it but I can't quite decipher what it is, so I turn my attention to the mattresses on the wall.

There is a slim one and two thick ones, when I try the first thick mattress it feels quite hard and bedsprings poke out in several places. I choose the other thick mattress because it's really soft and compared to what I've had in the past few days it's incredibly comfy.

"How do you have these?" I ask and look up into Louis' face. I'm still laying on the mattress, trying to bounce on it a little.

"We always try to get our hands on mattresses because living in a cave is really anything but comfortable," he says, looking away from me, "So we at least try to get some good night's sleep. Those three are left over, lucky for you."

"So lucky," I smile, "thank you.. again."

When I finally get up from my new bed, we also get some beddings consisting of a thick and heavy blanket and a small pillow and try to find a way to carry it with only two available arms. In the end Louis takes the front of the mattress and I take the back, wedging the beddings between my arm and the mattress itself.

Louis leads the way and so I have a pretty good view of his injured leg that he only uses very tentatively.

"What happened to your leg?" I ask after a while, my curiosity about it finally taking over.

Louis turns his head around for a second without stopping to walk ahead, which seems somewhat dangerous to me in the dim light of the torch, but he doesn't trip anyway.

"Got shot," he says in a clipped tone.

"It happened the day you were supposed to get the ransom money, right?" I say.

"Yeah, it's good though. Every battle scar makes me look even cooler than I already do," he says and chuckles lightly. I could listen to his chuckle all day, it sounds adorable.

"Here we are," he says suddenly and comes to a halt. I already had to duck my head a little for the past hundred feet of the way or so, because the cave walls started hanging lower. Now we are standing in front of a curtain that hangs much lower than the one in the cave entry or my old jail.

The entry to the room in front of us seems to be only about four or five feet high and I wonder what it will look like inside.

When we walk through the thick fabric of the curtain, the first thing I see is another mattress and a rather big wooden chest on the opposite side of the entry. With a sudden movement of Louis in front of me and my mattress falling to the ground, I see that we have to jump down a tiny chasm to get into the room. When Louis climbs down with his crutch, the chasm only goes up to his hips. It can't be much more than three feet high.

The other boy takes the torch from me, walks to yet another fireplace, and lights it with little effort. They really seem to have those everywhere.

Looking around the room something comes to my mind. "Is this your room?" I ask, there even is an old carpet in the little space of the room.

Louis shrugs, looking around the room himself. "Nothing much, I know," he mumbles without looking at me.

"It's awesome," I say, and mean it, "It looks adventurous."

"Yeah, that's one way to put it," he says, clearly not believing my words, "Will you come down here now so we can set up your bed, or do you want to keep standing there, judging over my excuse of a room? I've seen yours remember? And your second one, too."

"I'm not judging," I say and throw the mattress and beddings down into the room, before jumping down myself, "honestly, Louis. I think what you guys have done with this cave is amazing!"

Without a response, Louis takes my mattress with one hand and pulls it over, next to his own mattress, but I don't miss the fact that he leaves a big space between the two mattresses. More than arm’s length.

"Let's get some sleep, yeah?" Louis hums and lays down on his bed.

"You..." I begin hesitant and walk over to my bed, "You don't think you should tie me so I can't escape while you're sleeping?" I hope he didn't just forget it.

Louis turns to his side to face me before I lay down and pull the covers up to my chin, hopefully the heat of the fire will warm up the room in no time.

"I don't know," Louis hums, looking at me observantly, "Should I?"

Before I answer, I decide to think about it for a second. I want to be honest with him.

I still want to escape from here, yes. I worry about my family, I don't want them to worry about me, and I miss them like crazy. I bet my sister is pulling apart every place and person in this city by now. She can be scary when she's worried, or angry, or feeling helpless.

I need to get out of here, but I need to be smart about it, too. I still have no idea how to find my way through the cave to even find an exit. The members of this gang would find me in a heartbeat, and even if they didn't, I'm in the middle of the forest, not even knowing what direction the city is in. I will have to try and escape by chance, or when I know my way around better. I'm not stupid enough to escape without a plan and just like that while Louis is sleeping next to me.

"No, I don't think so," I finally answer, "I don't know if you trust me well enough, but I can't think of a way to escape from here anyway. I won't run away. Besides, I really could use some restful sleep."

"You say I can trust you?" Louis says, looking straight into my eyes.

I nod my head way too quickly but Louis seems to take it well. I kind of feel embarrassed by my eager reaction when Louis smirks at me, licking the corner of his lips. "I really hope so, Styles," he says, "I'm much too tired to be thinking about escaping prisoners right now. You're lucky."

I can't help but feel relieved and weirdly drawn to the man in front of me that just made my night so much better within the past hour or so.

"How come you first guard me like you did all the time, and now I get my own bed and no guard or handcuffs or whatever?" I wonder.

"Like I said, 'm tired," Louis shrugs and turns his body away from me.

"You sure that's the reason?" I smile knowingly. I know he doesn't want me to hurt anymore.

"Shut it, kid," Louis mutters, still not facing me.

"Okay, Louis," I say, somewhat annoyed and slump further down on my bed.

Suddenly Louis turns back around to me. "I trust you on this, Styles, okay?" he says urgently, "I trust you to still be here in this room when I wake up. Please don't fail me, okay? I can't let you leave, I can't! We need the money, and as soon as you get back to your parents, they will drag you to the police office and make you talk about us. They would come here and put us behind bars at the least, maybe they'll even let some steam off on us. The children in this gang won't have anyone left to help them survive. They'll die or join another gang where they're not treated the way we treat them. They need us to have a life, a real one I mean. Please, Harry, you can't run away."

I look back at him with my eyes big and my lips slightly parted. I don't really know how to respond to that.

"Harry," Louis begins again, "I know you probably miss your life, and your family, your friends. Maybe your girlfriend, what do I know, but please. Promise me."

The only thing that I can think of doing while looking into his pleading eyes is nod my head slowly.

Louis nods too and lays his head back down on the pillow.

"I don't have a girlfriend, by the way," I hum into the silent room.

"You don't?" Louis says, sounding somewhat disbelieving, "Why does someone like _you_ not have a girlfriend?"

"What do you mean, 'someone like me'?" I ask, feeling a bit insecure.

"Someone looking like you," Louis clarifies, "Your curls and that face of yours must get you all the girls in town."

A shy smile creeps onto my lips at his words. He really thinks so?

"Apparently it doesn't," I look down, away from his eyes.

"You never had a girlfriend?" Louis' voice sounds seriously doubtful.

"Yes, I had some, but-"

"How many?" Louis interrupts me, his voice sounding somewhat clipped.

"Um, three," I answer a little confused, "but it never really worked out, it just wasn't right. I think I didn't love them.. like no, I loved them, I really did. I loved them like a friend, I cared about them. I mean they were cool and all, they were nice girls, really nice. Yes, but I guess I wasn't _in love_ with them. But they were great."

Louis starts laughing at that and I look at him in confusion. "You don't have to get like that with me, Harry," he says, still laughing quietly.

"Like what?" I wonder.

"Like all flustered because you feel like you need to explain yourself, or like you don't want to give the impression of talking bad about a person," he explains, smiling, "Believe me, I talk shit about people all the time."

"Um, yeah.. okay," I say quietly, "I just think I can't really control it..."

"We'll work on that," Louis smiles.

We lay next to each other for a while and when I speak up the next time, I'm not really sure if Louis is still awake. "Did _you_ ever have a girlfriend?" I hum.

He is still awake. "Me? Nah," Louis replies slowly and for some reason his answer makes me feel relieved, like I have been hoping for that answer.

"I'm not really a relationship kinda person," he continues, "Believe me, if I'd ever fall in love, I'd be screwed."

"Why?"

"It is what it is, right?" he hums without really answering my question. He sounds tired.

"I think the girl that you'll fall in love with some day will be very lucky," I smile at him, "Very lucky."

"That's what you think, huh?" Louis smirks and looks at me in disbelieve. There is something weird about his tone again, like he knows something I don't, or like he's implying something.

"Yeah," I smile, ignoring his tone, "The luckiest."

Louis smiles at me then, a wide smile and I would have loved to reach over to him and touch the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, but he's too far away.

"Yeah," he breaks eye contact first, snuggling down underneath his blanket, "let’s get some sleep, yes?"

I pull up my blanket again and nod sleepily. "Yes, sleep," I yawn, "Goodnight, Louis."

"Night, H."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Harry's POV**

 "Louis," a voice wakes me from a distance. "Louis!" It's coming from behind the curtain.

When I open my eyes, Louis is already sitting up on his bed, scratching his head.

"Morning," I mumble and a smile creeps onto my lips when he turns to look at me.

"Hey," he replies and smiles back at me. Only a couple of days ago he wouldn't have given me a smile in a million years.

"Louis," the voice yells again, this time closer.

"What's wrong?" I wonder. Louis only shrugs his shoulders.

"Lou, where's Harry?" the boy behind the curtain calls and pulls it away to appear in the room. It's the dark and handsome one, Zayn. "Harry's gone, he's not-"

That's when his eyes land on me. "Oh, um.." He looks somewhat puzzled.

"Yeah..." Louis chuckles adorably and gets up from his mattress, "he's here."

"I can see that," Zayn replies.

There is some awkward silence in the room before Zayn's eyes flicker back to me.

"How did that... when did that happen?" Zayn asks Louis, obviously still surprised about the situation.

"Last night. Was kinda spontaneous," Louis says, hobbling over to the big chest on the wall, but then he stops dead and flips around with wide eyes, quickly adding, "Nothing happened, though."

When Zayn only looks back at him with a bored expression, Louis visibly relaxes his shoulders and opens the chest to get a new shirt. The shirt he picks out doesn't look like it was ever folded before it went into the chest.

"Ooohkay then," Zayn says and frowns at Louis' weird reaction, before he looks at me closely. "He's not tied up," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"He didn't escape, did he?" Louis mumbles indifferently while taking off the shirt he has been wearing all night. I can't help but stare and my lips part without my control. His skin looks soft and he has the slightest tummy which makes me want to pinch it so bad. And I knew he had tattoos, I've seen glimpses of them before but I didn't know he had so many. He has quite a number of tattoos on his arms and also on his chest, just like me.

"He could have," Zayn counters at Louis' remark.

Louis pulls his fresh shirt over his chest and carelessly throws the other one to the ground, and I am finally able to pull my gaze off of him.

"I wouldn't have," I say quickly, looking at Zayn, "I didn't."

"And we can trust you because?" Zayn frowns again.

"It was my decision, Zayn," Louis chips in, "Just drop it."

"Alright boss," Zayn mutters, rolling his eyes.

"It's no big deal. We just slept..." Louis continues.

Suddenly a smirk forms on Zayn's lips. "Never said you didn't..." he smiles.

"W-What are you saying?" Louis stutters, his whole composure changing in a split second.

Zayn looks utterly confused. "What should I be saying? What am I saying?" he repeats Louis' question.

"You where implying something there!" Louis snaps at him angrily and starts pacing around, "About me and him?"

"I... no. Why would you... I wasn't," Zayn stammers, completely at a loss, "What do you think I was implying?"

"You know exactly what you where implying!" Louis yells, stopping in his tracks. His head has turned red in anger and his hands are in fists at his sides. "You're insane! That's just gross. Go to hell!"

"Louis," I say gently, "I think he wasn't-"

"I didn't ask you now did I, twat?" he cuts me off in a snappy tone without even so much as looking at me.

"No... I-I'm sorry," I splutter nervously. I didn't expect him to talk to me like that anymore. "I just thought-"

"No," he cuts me off once again. This time his angry eyes lock with mine, I can practically feel the icy cold behind his eyes mixed with his burning anger. "You know nothing about me. Nothing!" he screams, grabs his crutch and storms past Zayn and out of the room; as good as someone can storm out with a limp.

For a while Zayn and I just look at each other in shock.

"What the hell was that all about?" Zayn speaks up first.

"No idea," I shrug, "Is he always like this?"

"No... not very often... sometimes he gets like this. It's weird," Zayn says in a slow voice before he shrugs, too, "Are you coming? We're having breakfast."

I get up from my bed, quickly folding my blanket and fluffing up my pillow before I do the same with Louis' bed. Then I pick up Louis' old shirt, fold it neatly and put it on top of the chest. I just like it tidy.

When I turn around to join Zayn, I see that he is smirking at me in amusement. I decide to ignore it and walk next to him in silence.

"I don't even know what we were actually talking about the whole time," Zayn hums after a while and it sounds like there is worry in his voice.

"Me neither..." I say quietly without looking at him.

We are having porridge for breakfast. And not the fancy honey and banana porridge that my mom makes me when I'm sick, no just plain porridge. But it's fine, I like it. I just miss my mom's.

Louis doesn't talk, doesn't look at anyone. He seems spacy and closed off and I hate it, because we had a pretty good start when we woke up half an hour ago. He smiled at me, it was nice.

"We'll get you some more clothes today, Harry," Liam announces to me when he has finished his bowl, "You only have two sets of clothes and nothing to change into at night."

"That's okay," I say, "I usually sleep in my boxers anyway. If that."

Louis' head shoots up at my reply and he looks at me for a second, mixed emotions on his face. But then he only turns away and his eyes unfocus again.

Niall who is sitting next to me laughs his loud signature laugh. "'S going to get cold in yer birthday suit, though," he chuckles.

"Niall," Liam reminds him, sounding like an annoyed mom, "didn't you hear what Zayn said when the two of them got here?"

The blond only shakes his head with a slightly baffled expression.

"Of course not," Beth the laundry girl on Niall's other side laughs, "He was too busy trying to court me."

"Hey, I was just telling you how much I appreciate your folding skills," Niall pouts.

"What?" Zayn calls, looking up from his cup of coffee, "You never fold my stuff."

"Well, she only loves me, Zaynie," Niall laughs and winks at Beth the same way he did two nights ago. I'm starting to believe there is something going on between them.

"Whatever, guys," Liam interrupts, "Just so you know, Niall, Harry is staying with Louis at night."

For some reason Liam's words make my heart beat faster, but when I look over to Louis his hands are in fists again, so I look away from him quickly.

"Seriously? That's great!" Niall says in a joyous tone and slaps my back.

"Did you get him a mattress?" he calls over to Louis.

The feathery, brown hair of the other boy doesn't even move when he merely reacts with a low, unintelligible grumble.

I can't deny that it stings a bit to see him like this.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

"There you go, pool owner," Niall beams at me when he unceremoniously dumps a heap of all kinds of clothes in front of me, "Choose."

"How much can I have?" I ask, eyeballing the mess at my feet.

"As much as you want if you ask me," Niall smiles and picks up a salmon-pink button-up with a patterned collar, "Though you might wanna leave that for someone with horrible eye-sight."

He holds it up and pulls a face and I know he does it to make me laugh, but I take it from him and throw it over my shoulder. "I think I can make it work," I say with a smile, I really think it's quite nice.

Niall raises an eyebrow at me with a look of disbelieve on his face. "What? Come on, that one his hideous," he says, "You don't have to take it, we got you plenty."

"You can only find things like that in thrift stores nowadays. It's special. I would pay for that," I assure him.

"Implying that we didn't pay for it?" Niall says with a grin.

"Did you?" I say and look up from the pile of clothes to give him a knowing look.

"You know we didn't," Niall chuckles and picks up a pair of dark blue sweats, "You should probably take these for the nights. Louis didn't seem too keen about you sleeping in the nude."

I feel my cheeks starting to blush and quickly grab the pants and put them on top of the shirt on my shoulder.

"Yeah, he'd probably kick me out of his room and back into the cage if he ever saw me like that," I hum without looking at Niall.

"Oh yes," Niall laughs, oblivious to the expression on my face, "I'm surprised he even opened up enough to give you a real bed at his own will." He holds up another shirt for me to see and gives me a quizzical look. I nod and add it to the pile of my new clothes on my shoulder.

"Why is he like this?" I wonder in thought.

"You're asking me why Louis is Louis?" Niall laughs quietly.

"Yeah, why is he closed up like that?" I press.

“Hm, I don't really know," Niall answers and stops rummaging through the clothes in front of us, "He's always been like this. It's just him. See, some people are as easy-going as I and some are not, right?" He laughs and I smile at him, but I don't think the answer is that simple.

"Well, he wasn't _always_ always like this, I guess," Niall continues then, "He was always moody and sassy and just over-all had the same big mouth he still has to date, but he wasn't as closed off and defensive as he gets now. He was like the life of the party, cheery even, smiled a lot."

"I think he still smiles a lot," I say and think about the way the blue of his eyes looks when the corners of his eyes crinkle around them.

"You think?" Niall wonders, "I don't see it very often these days."

"What changed?" I ask curiously.

Niall shrugs and looks like he never gave it much thought before. "No idea, it just changed," he mumbles after a pause, "quite abruptly, too, now that I think about it."

"What do you mean?" I ask eagerly.

"It's been years, we must have been in our teens," Niall says, still deep in thought, "Actually I remember that in the first few weeks that I noticed a change he was really badly bruised. I don't remember why, though. He spend most of that time in his room, I don't remember much. I guess I should've been more attentive back then."

"He was bruised?" My voice sounds worried when I use it.

"Yeah, I think so," Niall affirms, "Must've been just around that time. He had bruises on his face and his neck, he looked miserable."

"And nobody asked him about it?" I raise my voice in anger.

"He wouldn't talk to us, he got furious when we first pointed it out," Niall says, sounding defensive, "Like I said that was when he started closing off, not telling us when he gets upset, not talking to us about things that trouble him. And back then, in the first couple of weeks, he shut down completely. He didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want us to know."

"I'm sure he wanted to talk about it," I counter and make sure to keep my voice calm this time, Niall doesn't deserve to be yelled at. "He was probably just scared," I say quietly.

"Louis scared?" Niall laughs, "He didn't want anyone to know about the fight he'd gotten in and it's probably for the best. It's also years ago, forget about it Harry. I'm sure he has, too."

I press my lips together to keep myself from saying something else and burrow my hands back into the pile of clothes. I don't believe that Louis has forgotten about it for a second.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Louis' POV**

I know I have overreacted this morning. But I just can't let anyone know or even assume that I'm not normal in that way. I try to push all of that out of my life as far as I can because I'm scared they'll hate me and kick me out of the gang. That might just happen. Or they'll do to me what those three retarded men did to me when I was younger.

I can't let it even cross their minds. If they'll ever find out, I will not have a family anymore. I would have to live on the streets again.

Walking around town with Carlos reminds me once again why I don't want to go back there. We walk past greasy and dirty people, living in cardboard boxes. They look like they have already starved to death and are only still able to move because they are afraid that the rats and pigeons which always creep around in their shadows, will nibble on their feet.

"You know you're lucky that I knew you even before your parents went to prison, mate," I say to Carlos as he pulls a disgusted face at a porky looking homeless woman that is rubbing a slice of apple under her hairy armpit in the middle of the street. I suppose this is her substitution for deodorant. Or a shower.

"You wouldn't have survived the streets for a day," I laugh, "You are way too much of a Mr. Clean."

"What are you talking about? There is nothing clean about being part of a gang," he counters.

"We have bathtubs, we have soap, we have tooth paste," I say with another laugh, using my fingers to count, "We have a fucking honey bucket for god's sake. Shall I go on?"

"Which we are only allowed to use when we need to take a dump. And these supposed ‘bathtubs’ are actually rain barrels if you haven't noticed," Carlos rolls his eyes, putting air quotes around the word "bathtubs".

"Oh, I'm sorry I can't live up to your standards, Your Highness," I scoff, "at least-"

"Now look what the cat dragged in," a shout across the street interrupts me.

I turn my head to see a big, brawny guy walking towards us with a smug grin on his ugly face. He is flanked by a tall and bony boy with a look on his face like he is brain-dead.

I know the both of them. The skinny guy likes to be called Pickles and has the most annoying laugh on the planet, and the fat one is the leader of the Creepers.

I roll my eyes in annoyance and brace myself for a fight, or at least a brainless conversation with no point other than to irritate me.

"Tomlinson, what happened to our little agreement that you won't cross my way anymore? I really hate beating up little girls," their leader says as they approach Carlos and I.

"Hey Fletcher, didn't see your delicate frame over there," I say with a fake smile, "I see you are still wearing that chewed-raw baboon's ass of a face. Good for you."

I can see the masked anger in his eyes, but he doesn't make a move. He is almost a head taller than I and probably two or three times my weight, but he doesn't intimidate me. He is as dumb as a dried piece of bread.

"Where are you headed?" he asks lightly, still keeping up the appearance of a friendly conversation. Every time I talk to him I feel like I can smell the wastewater on his breath, he stinks barbarically.

"Just getting some grocery shopping done," I say casually.

"Shopping? I see," Fletcher says and scratches his chin, "Want our help?"

"No, we're good," I smile, "Wouldn't want you to attract any attention by knocking over all the shelves when you turn around inside of the stores."

"Uh, funny, Tomlinson," he grits out.

"Always am."

"Don't you want to know where we are going?" Fletcher says with a wicked smile.

"Well… It's not like I'm not interested, but quite frankly I don't give a fuck," I say in a bored tone and turn around to finally leave this pointless conversation.

"We're on our way to Burke's," Fletcher speaks up when he realizes I'm leaving. His sidekick snickers dumbly when I turn around at his words.

Whenever the Creepers go to Burke's, it doesn't end well. They hate each other. And Carlos and I left Zayn at Burke's, a few minutes ago. He stayed behind to figure out whether or not our little video is still online. We are hoping to find a way to take it down again.

But if the Creepers go to Burke's, Zayn will definitely get involved in whatever fight they are going to pick. I can't let that happen.

"What do you want there?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.

"Just say hi," Fletcher smirks, "Pickles here told me that I would really be interested in the new shop window."

He smiles when I don't respond. "I've heard you're very own Zayn Malik likes to spray-paint everything and anything he can get his hands on around town."

My heart sinks at the mention of Zayn's name.

"Yeah, he does," Carlos shrugs next to me, "Pretty popular pastime around here."

God, I am thankful for that boy. I hope Carlos' comment tells Fletcher that it could have been anyone who painted that window.

Fletcher's eyes flicker over to Carlos and that ugly grin finds its way back onto his face.

"I've never seen you before, boy. You look too young to be roaming the streets. Are you even out of your diapers, yet?" he says, at what his sidekick giggles childishly.

"Wow, I can tell that this was the smartest thing you've ever said," I say, slightly stepping in front of Carlos. I know how fast he can snap, and even though I wouldn't mind him giving Fletcher's face a punch or two, I don't want Carlos getting into trouble.

"Oh-ho, speaking up for your little boyfriend, am I right Tomlinson?" Fletcher grins.

"Oh shut up and have a plate of shit," I growl at him, then pause and pretend to sniff the air, "Oh wait, you smell like you had some already."

At that Carlos laughs and Pickles sounds like he is yapping at me in anger.

"You little piece of-" Fletcher starts.

I raise my hand with a disgusted face. "Stop talking, you are making me cry," I interrupt him and turn to Carlos, "Literally, what the hell did he eat?"

"You think you're funny, huh? But actually you are the most pitiful and pathetic shrimp of a leader, I've ever seen. Even that _boy_ has more muscles than you," Fletcher snorts, pointing at Carlos.

"No, I'm actually being honest," I say calmly, only paying attention to his first sentence, "I'm not insulting you, I'm simply telling you that you should use a fucking tooth brush if you don't want to smell like the filthy butthole of your baboon mommy."

That was too far, and I know it the moment it left my mouth.

"You little fucker," he yells, and the next thing I realize is that I'm seeing stars, "You don't fucking talk shit about my mom!" Another punch to my head makes my vision go black for a moment, even though I tried to block his fist for the second blow.

"Keep your dirty hands off of him, shithead," Carlos yells and crashes into him, immediately punching him into his fatty jaw.

He is smaller than Fletcher, even smaller than me, but he is still my best fighter. He knows how to beat people up, he knows where to punch them and he punches them hard. It's no surprise to me that Fletcher has difficulties to fight back.

When Pickles sees the struggle his boss is in, he tries to get Carlos off of Fletcher by starting to choke him, so I ram my elbow into his neck and he instantly lets go of Carlos. I shove him away from my partner and easily block his sloppy punches with my own. It's not hard for me to gain the upper hand in this fight, Pickles is so weak, I don't even know why the Creepers let him be part of their gang.

Nobody interrupts our fight. It's not like the street we are on is deserted or anything, there are lots of people around to see us, but they look away like they always do.

I find myself sitting on top of the skinny guy's chest, hitting him repeatedly while pressing his hands down with my knees. It feels good, honestly. No, it feels great to finally let off some steam again, punching away all the anger and tension of the past couple of days. Punching away those unwanted thoughts and urges that I have felt lately.

But then we do get interrupted, I only see them at the last second and I am surprised that they even care enough to get involved. The Police. What?

"Cut the crap, you useless pricks," one of the policemen shouts and tries to yank me away from Pickles, but before he can touch me I jump off of the other boy and start running.

I yell for Carlos, looking back at him, and see that another policeman has him by his wrists.

"Fuck," I groan and turn around to help him.

I slam into the policeman and press my fingers into his wrists, forcing him to release his grip. Carlos struggles and kicks back at him, stepping on his toes until we manage to make the policeman let go.

"Run!" I shout and jump between them to give Carlos the chance to get away from the cop.

Carlos sprints away and I try to do the same, but the cop gets a hand around my arm and yanks me backwards. Before I know it he has forced both of my arms to my back and I hear the handcuffs click.

"That's it, shithead, you're coming with me," he snarls next to my ear and I shudder in revulsion.

Carlos turns around as he realizes that I'm not with him and stops in his tracks, a shocked look on his face. There is already a policeman running after him.

"Leave!" I shout, "Go and get Zayn! Leave!"

"Aye, captain," Carlos yells back and turns around a corner, leaving the way we came from.

Hopefully Zayn will know what to do, we discussed situations like this.

Before I can pull my eyes away from the corner where Carlos vanished, the policeman pulls me backwards, his baton resting on my lower back like a threat. He escorts me to a police transporter that is waiting for us a little distance down the street.

The two Creepers are already there when I reach the car, Fletcher being held by two men instead of one.

"I need your names," an old policeman with a white mustache says in a harsh tone.

"What's yours, old man?" Fletcher smirks, looking not one bit worried about the situation.

I, on the other hand, feel pretty uneasy at the thought of what might happen if they interrogate me. What if they somehow get suspicious and start believing that I have a kidnapped boy back home. A boy that is randomly staying in _my_ room?

I just have to hope for Zayn.

"That's Pickles," Fletcher says with a proud grin, "and I am Tony Fletcher, leader of the Creepers." He turns towards one of the cops next to him, eying his police badge, "And we already know each other, right?"

The officer doesn't look back at him but he looks rather uncomfortable the way he turns his chest away from Fletcher's gaze.

"Creepers?" The cop with the white mustache says, "I bet you will be happy to see some of your friends again that are still wasting their time in our cells until they decide to talk."

"I don't give a flying fuck about these bastards," Fletcher barks, "How stupid can they be to get caught by the cops?"

"Like you just got caught?" the policeman laughs coldly, "I'm actually thankful you picked a fight in the middle of the street and got yourself arrested. Now we can see what the head of that filthy gang of yours has to say about the abduction of the Styles boy."

"So?" Fletcher spits, "You never care about people beating each other up in public. You never do your fucking job, why start now?"

"Says the so called _leader_ of the gang that abducts the son of a rich family, and doesn't even show up to the money delivery himself. Seems like you're not doing your job either. And now shut your trap, young man," the police officer counters.

Fletcher mutters something in return but the officer just ignores him.

"And what is your name," he turns to me.

"Max George," I say, keeping a bored expression on my face.

Fletcher burst out laughing. "You wish, pisser," he laughs and turns to the policemen, "His name is Louis Tomlinson and he is the leader of that pathetic little club of Sparrows."

The old police officer makes a note on his tablet and shoves me into the police transporter. "Nice try, boy," he says to me, "Enjoy the ride, Mr. Tomlinson."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Louis' POV**

"I can't believe I have to see your ugly face for the rest of the day, now," Fletcher spits while we drive over to the police station.

"And whose fault is that?" I roll my eyes.

"Yours of course," Fletcher says and a grin forms on his face, showing his yellow teeth, "If someone has a face like yours, I just can't help but to punch it really hard."

"Oh, because you're jealous that I have a face that is at least recognizable as one, I see," I say and smile.

"Oh fuck off, Tomlinson," Pickles butts in. He looks really bad with all the cuts in his face, after my little treatment earlier. "Nobody is jealous of a lousy leader like you are."

"Lousy leader?" I snort and point to his leader, "What about this one? As far as I heard, he didn't lift a finger for the abduction of that boy," I turn to Fletcher again, "Always having other people do your dirty work, right? You're too scared to do things yourself. Quite the leader you are."

"Why get my hands dirty if I have servants to do it?" he asks with a smirk.

I shake my head. "I'm not going to discuss leadership principles with you, Fletcher," I say, "We'll see where it gets you. I wonder what happens to you after they interrogated you. It doesn't look like you're going to be the leader of your gang for a lot longer."

"Yeah, we'll see," Fletcher smiles, "At least we know that we don't really have that boy. We're innocent. Can you say the same thing about yourself?"

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**Liam's POV**

"Officer Payne," my superior's voice makes me pull my gaze away from the paperwork in front of me.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Someone has been asking for you," he informs me, "Leather jacket, black hair, funny accent. He's about your age, I guess."

I frown. What does Zayn want here?

"How do you know a guy like that? He looks like trouble," Sergeant Gifford continues with a suspicious look on his face.

"I don't even know who you are talking about, Sir," I lie.

"No? Well, he's waiting for you in the foyer," he shrugs and walks away.

I wait until he is out of sight, shove some important files into my desk drawer and hurry down the corridor towards the foyer.

Zayn is leaning against the reception counter, playing with the pen of our receptionist with a bored expression on his face. She seems to be talking to him but he only looks at her for as long as it takes him to give her a fake smile, before he turns away and looks bored again.

I have to admit, he is probably the coolest person that I know. Sometimes I wish I was a bit more like him, but his coolness also makes him reckless at times. I hope it won't get us in trouble someday.

When he sees me, he raises his eyebrows, finally throws the pen back to the woman behind the counter, and walks towards me with urgency. When he reaches me, he puts his hand on my shoulder and leans in to whisper in my ear.

"Liam, mate, we need you. Louis has gotten into some trouble," he says under his breath.

A frown forms between my eyes. "What did he do now?" I sigh.

"He got arrested."

"He _what?_ " I blurt a little too loud, a lot of people turn their heads. "He what?" I repeat a lot quieter, this time with worry.

"He got in a fight with Fletcher," Zayn whispers, "Carlos told me."

"And the police actually stepped in?" I say in disbelieve.

Zayn shrugs. "Don't ask me. No idea what'd gotten into them. They're all idiots if you ask me," he murmurs, looking around. "Except for you of course, mate," he winks when his eyes land on mine.

"Don't be charming now," I brush him off distractedly, "I'm going to fix this.. I hope."

"A'right, I'll go help Carlos getting us some food," Zayn says, already half turning away to leave.

 I nod and give him a tensed smile before I make my way to the stationary jail wing of the building where we hold suspects for short terms.

Louis and two other guys have been put into the same cell, one of them is Fletcher and I only know him because he is the leader of the Creepers. While he looks like he is proud to be there, Louis looks pissed.

The skinny boy next to Fletcher looks terrible. He has various cuts in his face, his left eye is bruised and he holds his arm like it is broken or at least sprained.

Louis seems to have a bruise on his jaw but seems fine otherwise. When his eyes lock on mine, I can see relieve flash through them but then his expression goes blank. I look away from him, too. We are not supposed to know each other.

"So," a loud voice says behind me.

It's Officer Fuller and Officer Chapman. They are both in their sixties and while Chapman is one of the only people around here that I trust to some extent, Officer Fuller is a nasty person to work with.

"Who wants to be questioned first?" Fuller smiles at the three boys inside the cell.

"What do we need to be questioned for?" Louis says in a snappy tone, "We fought, it's over, no harm done."

"Sir," I cut in, turning to my co-workers before they can respond. I walk over to them and continue in a hushed voice, "I think it would be better if I interrogate those three. You know I am qualified, Officer Chapman."

"And why would you think that a boy like you is more qualified than us? You barely started a month ago," Fuller says, his lips in a hard line.

"It's been two years, Officer," I say and try to keep my voice neutral. He knows very well how long I have been here, he had to give me his desk next to the Sergeant's office when I started the job because our Sergeant favored me over him. I always get picked over Fuller. He hates it.

"Oh two years already?" he smiles with cold eyes, his tone as if he was talking to a toddler, "You clearly deserve a badge for that. But how about you go back to your paperwork before you might get hurt. These are bad, bad boys, you know?"

I decide to ignore him and turn to Chapman instead. "Believe me, Officer Chapman. I'm their age, I know how to talk to them. They will open up more. I will get whatever information you need," I assure him.

"Oh, now you don't even know why we're interrogating them in the first place," Fuller snorts.

"Please, Officer," I keep my eyes locked with Chapman's, "You know I can do it. I just want to show Sergeant Gifford that, too."

"Kissing up the Sergeant's ass from day one, huh?" Fuller comments, but I ignore him again.

"Please, let me do it," I plead.

Officer Chapman looks at me for a moment with testing eyes, then he nods, "Alright, I think you deserve it," he says sternly, "But I'm coming with, I worry they might tear you to pieces in there."

I nod eagerly. "Thanks, Chap," I smile. Chapman I can handle, I only need to be there for the interrogation to intervene if need be.

"Fuller, go and make sure nobody interrupts us while we question these three," Chapman motions towards Louis and the two Creepers, "We're starting with the Sparrow."

Fuller grumbles something when he walks off but I don't care to listen.

We lead Louis into one of the interrogation rooms and I make him sit down on the opposite side of the table.

We still pretend not to know each other in front of Chapman, but there is a tense feeling in the air; like everything about our actions and movements screams just how well we know each other, and the fact that we barely look at each other doesn't make it better.

"Your name is Louis Tomlinson," Chapman begins, "and you're the leader of a gang called Sparrows. Is that true?"

"Um, is this what you wanted to find out by interrogating me?" Louis says, "Because if so, you could've saved the energy. Didn't Fletcher confirm that already?"

"Yes, he did," Chapman says calmly, "But you didn't. So, can you confirm this information?"

Louis rolls his eyes. "Guess so," he mumbles.

"And is it true that you got into a fight with two members of the Creepers this afternoon?" Chapman says.

"Obviously," Louis says, sounding bored. I know him well enough to know that he only masks his worries with indifference.

"Tell us about it. Why did you fight? Who started it?"

Louis' eyes flicker to me for a split second before he answers. "He was being a disgusting pain and I told him so. Guess he didn't like that so much," he smiles in amusement.

I roll my eyes in annoyance, this is not the right time to be smug.

"What was the fight about?" I say, primarily out of my own interest.

Louis looks at me. "That's personal," he says, giving me a sharp look.

Oh, so it's about something the police shouldn't know about. Is it about Harry? Do the Creepers suspect anything?

"Nothing's personal in this building," Chapman counters.

Louis doesn't answer. Good.

"So what happened during the fight," I distract from the original question.

"We fought, verbally," Louis says without looking at me, "suddenly Fletcher hit me in the face. Then Carlos started beating up Fletcher and Pickles tried to choke Carlos, so I stepped in and got Pickles off of Carlos' back."

"And 'Pickles' looks like he was ran over by a car because?"

"I had to keep him preoccupied, didn't I?" Louis says with a smirk.

"Of course you did," Chapman sighs, "So, the fight was simply because of a few insults being thrown around?"

"Yes."

"There was no deeper meaning behind it?"

"Meaning? No," Louis' voice sounds defensive.

"This had nothing to do with an abduction that happened a few days ago?" Chapman presses, and I tense up.

"No! This had something to do with Fletcher being a moron and a pain in the ass," Louis huffs.

"Do you even know about the abduction?" I say cautiously.

"Yes, they talked about it when they arrested us," Louis spits, "I don't even know why I am here. Fletcher was right, you never care enough to do your job. I don't get why you are starting now."

I know his anger isn't directed at me but I look at him sternly. "Of course you wouldn't know, you gang people are just plain stupid. Even stupid enough to get _arrested_ for picking a fucking pointless _fight_ ," I raise my voice in real irritation.

I can see in Louis' eyes that he takes it personally, an angry crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Oh, sorry for being stupid. Sorry that I had to leave school at 8 because they kick out every fucking homeless kid without another glance," Louis growls, "Sorry, I couldn't go to school longer and turn out a perfect know-it-all like you."

"Let's not start insulting police officers, shall we?" Chapman interferes calmly, "If you want to complain about the school system, don't talk to us, talk to the government, go into politics and change things.. But you are probably not smart enough for it, to be honest."

Louis looks at Chapman for a moment, then slowly looks over to me. "Yeah," he hums, "If only we had someone in the gang that's smart enough to go to the government and change things.."

I frown at him, what has he got in mind?

"Yes, poor you," Chapman deadpans, "Back to our topic."

"Officer," I say under my breath, "I think it would be a lot wiser to interrogate Fletcher now."

"But we can't be sure the fight wasn't about the abduction," Chapman says, sounding unsure.

"He clearly had nothing to do with the case," I scoff, "look at him, he's much too stupid to pull off something like an abduction. No wonder we never hear anything about the Sparrows, they are too irrelevant to cause trouble."

I can see a smile on Louis' lips at my comment, so I lightly kick him in the shin under the table, and he stops.

"You know I trust you," Chapman says, looking at me, "You're a good officer."

"You can blame me for the abduction of Styles if I am wrong about this," I smirk, mentally patting my back for the inside joke.

"Alright," Chapman says in a loud voice and turns to Louis, "But you'll stay here for another few hours until you’ve calmed down from the fight."

I wink at Louis and leave the room behind Officer Chapman to start interrogating the Creepers. Hopefully I can make them look guilty enough to make Chapman forget about the Sparrows again.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Louis' POV**

The morning after my trip to the police station, I walk into the main hall alone. Harry had already been gone when I woke up this morning. And his bed was as fluffed up and neatly folded as both of our beds where last night. I have got to say, it's a really nice feeling to get into a made bed after an exhausting day, but I'm way too lazy to actually do it myself.

The others are sitting at the table today, we are having oranges and cereal, apparently.

"Wow, guys! You've outdone yourselves yesterday with the ‘shopping’, ey?" I say to Zayn and Carlos as I sit down at the table next to them, "Oranges, seriously?" I take one excitedly and turn it in my hand.

Carlos smirks. "We’d hoped you'd stay in jail for longer," he says, "So we thought, why not get something nice for once."

"Very funny, Carlos," I laugh, looking around for a knife to peel my orange, "One day you might even reach my level of hilariousness, but probably not." I can't find a knife.

From the corner of my eye, I see a knife moving across the table, and I look up. Harry is sitting across from me, carefully sliding his knife over to me. I didn't even realize he was there. I take the knife from him and am about to thank him when I see the way he looks at me, his expression is worried and serious. What is he worried about?

Before I can think about it more or even ask him, Perrie sits down next to me. She has Linda on her lap again and immediately starts filling up some cereals in a bowl for her.

"Morning guys," she sighs, looking somewhat exhausted even though the day has just begun, "What a day yesterday, huh? Zayn told me you got arrested, Louis?"

"Yeah, but it's nothing," I shrug, "Only thing that sucks is that they know me now, but don't worry."

"Why did they even arrest you?" she wonders, pouring milk into her own bowl of cereal.

"Didn't Zayn tell you?" I say in confusion.

Suddenly Linda throws away her spoon, sprinkles of milk splashing everywhere. She jumps down from Perrie's lap and walks around the table.

"He was super tired last night," Perrie says, slightly puzzled by Linda's actions, "he fell asleep on my stomach. This morning, I woke up with his drool all over my belly."

Meanwhile, Linda has reached her destination and stops next to Harry. "Who are you?" she asks bluntly.

Harry looks somewhat surprised, but smiles at her with warm eyes. "Um, I'm Harry," he says in his deep, warm voice and waits for her to say something else.

"What's your name?" he asks after a pause.

At that, Linda giggles shyly and runs back to the other side of the table again, instead of answering.

Nobody except for me seems to have noticed this little interaction, but I am kind of glad not having to share it with the others. I can't help but smile about the cuteness of the situation.

"Don't need to know all the details, Perrie," Niall grimaces when I focus back on the conversation.

Zayn laughs, raising his palm to high five his girlfriend.

"So why did you get arrested," Perrie turns back to me afterwards.

"Actually because of your precious man," I say, sliding the knife back to Harry and finally popping the first piece of my orange into my mouth.

"Me?" Zayn sounds mock offended.

"Yeah," I dismiss him and turn back to Perrie, "See, I kinda got into a fight with Fletcher. And if Zayn hadn't spray-painted that idiotic sign on Burke's new shop window, Fletcher wouldn't even have crossed my way, yesterday."

"What sign?" Perrie asks warily.

I actually don't want to talk about it, I still feel my stomach turn when I think about it.

"A keep-out sign," Carlos explains, smirking, "But I think it's a rather kind way of keeping certain people out."

Perrie sighs knowingly. "Oh no, what does it say?" She looks at Zayn pointedly.

Zayn smiles and shrugs his shoulders. "Don't worry, Pezz," he says nonchalantly, "He doesn't want certain groups of people inside his shop. He just wants to be provocative. Nothing to worry about."

"What groups?" Perrie says sharply.

"Dunno, like fat people, fags... um, like drug squad officers, ugly people in general, I suppose," Zayn says, and I hate that he uses the word "fag", it only shows me how right I am about my worry that they'll kick me out. And I wouldn't blame them, I'm disgusting.

"You want one?" I hear Harry's quiet voice and look over to him.

His eyes are on Linda and he is holding a slice of orange in his hand. Linda just stares back at Harry and absentmindedly starts biting her shirt collar. When Harry gives her an encouraging smile and holds the orange out to her, she giggles again and hides her face in Perrie's shirt. I've never seen her so shy. She looks smitten with him. I find myself smiling again.

Harry chuckles softly and puts the slice of orange right next to Linda without another word. Linda curiously peeks at the orange before she picks it up and quickly bites into it.

The others missed their interaction again, they are too preoccupied with laughing at whatever Niall just said.

"But anyways," Perrie still doesn't seem to be satisfied, "Did that Fletcher guy get offended by the word 'fat' or what?"

"Well I didn't use the word 'fat'", Zayn explains, "Burke made me use some nice and sweet nicknames," he smirks, "I wrote down 'sewer rats'."

Perrie rolls her eyes. "As in, the name that the Creepers absolutely hate?" she huffs, and after a pause continues in a lower voice, probably talking to herself, "Why can't I have a boyfriend that isn't addicted to getting into trouble at every chance he gets?"

Zayn gets up to walk behind her and kisses her forehead, leaning over her head. "Because you love saving me," he whispers when nobody looks, and I am only able to hear it because I'm sitting right next to Perrie.

Sometimes I wish I had something like they have, even though Perrie spends a lot of time worrying about Zayn. But I know I will never have something like that, at least not anything real.

"Okay, Linda, we're going to do the dishes now, yes?" Perrie turns to the little girl that is still staring at Harry with wide eyes, "Can you bring your spoon and your bowl into the kitchen, love?"

At that, Linda seems to snap out of a kind of trance, her eyes locked on Harry, and looks at Perrie, shaking her head.

"No? Why not?" Perrie says with all the patience in the world.

"I wanna stay with Hawwy?" Linda says and looks at him. When she realizes that Harry is smiling at her, she giggles and looks away again.

Perrie looks over to Harry with a baffled expression on her face. Of course she is surprised that Linda knows Harry's name, she didn't pay attention to the both of them since she got here.

"Well," Perrie begins, scrambling for something to say, "The boys need to have some time alone now, and you still wanted your milk with honey, right?"

Linda nods, looking back and forth between Harry and Perrie.

"So, will you come with me then?" Perrie says with a sweet voice, "So I can get you your milk?"

"No!" Linda shakes her head again, looking at Harry with hopeful eyes.

Harry smiles again, warm eyes, dimples out, and then looks at Perrie. "I could come with you?" he says, but it sounds more like a question.

"YEEEAAAH," Linda throws her little arms in the air.

"You... no, are you sure?" Perrie seems unsure herself, "That's fine, you don't have to."

"No, that's okay, I'd like to come," Harry smiles at Linda.

"No. No way," I interfere quickly, "Harry needs to stay with one of the captains at all times."

Perrie rolls her eyes. "Seriously? Come on Louis, what's the worst thing that could happen?" she says.

"I don't know, but he needs to stay with me- um, with us. The captains," I splutter.

Dang it! Why did I just say that?

"NOOOOO! I want Hawwy to come," Linda pouts and crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"I'm sorry, Linda," Harry says gently, "I'm sure we can hang out some other time, okay?"

Linda pouts her lips even more and Harry looks back at her with slumped shoulders.

I sigh in resignation. "Alright, Harry can go with you," I huff, "But I'm coming with. What do you say, sweetheart?" Linda always manages to get what she wants. She’s a sneaky little one.

"HAWWYYYYY!" Linda beams, jumps down from Perrie's lap again. Apparently as a ‘thank you’, she gives me a wet and sloppy kiss on the thigh. Probably because that is the only thing she can reach right now.

While Perrie breaks out into a fit of laughter, Linda runs around the table towards Harry. She holds Harry's hand while we walk to the kitchen which is more like a mess of different cupboards and small tables. But we have an actual fridge and an oven, powered by gas. We don't use the fridge much since we only have to find an unheated corner in our cave to keep things cool.

There are two other girls in the kitchen, already washing some dishes. They look at me weird, when I come in with an arm full of bowls. No wonder, I never really help with stuff like that.

Perrie warms up some milk for Linda while Linda is sitting next to Harry on a table, playing with his left sleeve in delight. I just stand opposite from them, not really knowing what to do. When Linda has her milk and Perrie starts helping with the dishes, Harry hops off the table and picks up an abandoned rag from the cupboard next to the sink.

"You don't have to help them," I frown.

"It's okay," Harry says without looking at me and starts toweling some spoons dry.

"Honestly," I say, "That's the girls' job, they can manage."

He looks at me then. "Well, I don't mind helping. It's done faster like that," he smiles.

"We usually don't help, though," I insist. I find it weird to see him helping with the dishes.

"What? Because you're guys?"

"Yeah, we have _our_ duties, they have _theirs_ ," I explain. I actually told him that before.

"But I want to help," Harry says and takes another spoon.

"Okay," I shrug, "Knock yourself out."

I watch him finishing up with the other girls and distract myself by taking Linda's cup away, holding it higher and higher up in the air the more she tries to reach for it. Whenever I feel like she is losing her patience and is about to cry, I put the cup down on the table and start tickling her, making her squeal in joy. When she's out of breath I let her go so she can continue drinking her milk. At those times I resume watching Harry again.

When they have cleared away all the dishes and the girls start making some tea, Harry wanders over to me and Linda and sits down on the table next to her again. The little girl immediately snuggles into his side. Seems like her initial shyness has vanished. Her fondness of him hasn’t.

Harry's expression seems worried again when he looks at me, just like it did during breakfast when he gave me his knife. He seems to examine my face.

"You're bruised," he says quietly when his eyes meet mine.

I look at him, not knowing what to reply. I almost forgot about the bruise on my jaw from one of Fletchers punches to my head. "Well, it's just one single bruise," I say lightly, "Not like, bruised all over."

"It looks painful, though."

"Nah, it's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I've looked worse. When you're in a gang, you look like that all the time," I assure him.

"So I've heard," Harry murmurs, and I'm not quite sure which one of my statements he meant by that.

There is an awkward silence between us, only filled with Linda's slurping noises.

"So," Harry begins, stretching the word a little, hesitantly adding, "are we good again?"

I look at him with a frown. "Good again?" I repeat in confusion.

"Yeah, like," he seems shy all of a sudden, "Are we friends- I mean, not friends," he giggles insecurely, "obviously. But like, are we okay again? Are we done fighting?"

I would feel bothered by the "not friends" part if I wasn't so dumbfounded by his question at the end.

"We were fighting?" I wonder.

"Weren't we?" Harry says, "I thought you were angry at me."

"Why would you think that?" I say, still utterly lost.

"You... like yesterday morning, you got really mad all of a sudden," Harry scratches his neck and he actually looks sad somehow, "and you said things, and then you didn't talk to me anymore.."

"Oh um," I say, suddenly the penny drops. "No, I didn't mean that. I was just angry," I tell him.

"Oh, okay..."

"Why would you think I would be angry at you?" I ask curiously.

Harry slumps his shoulders a little. "Well, I don't know, at first you were smiling at me when I woke up, and then you had this misunderstanding with Zayn and-"

"There you go," I interrupt him, " _Misunderstanding_ with _Zayn_. Where are you in all of this?" When he doesn't respond, I smile at him. "I'm not angry at you. We're good. I didn't talk to you last night because I was really exhausted from the day... And I thought you were already sleeping."

"I wasn't sleeping," Harry says, looking relieved about my explanation, "I just didn't want to annoy you more than you already were."

"You wouldn't have," I blurt way too quickly to still appear cool. Shit.

A smile forms on Harry's lips. "Good."

"Yeah, good," I smile, too.

"So, we're fine," Harry says.

"More than fine," I say, still smiling dumbly, before I snap out of it again. "What do you guys think?" I say, messing up Linda's blonde curls with my fingers, "Wanna go to the lake for a bit? You know, see the ducks?"

Linda looks up into my face, beaming, "Yes! See the ducks! See the ducks," she chants in delight. Harry and I start laughing, before we join in on the chant.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Louis' POV**

"Well, go ahead, run," I say to Linda. She has been wiggling in anticipation for the whole ride over to the pond by the edge of the forest.

Harry jumps out of the Jeep after her when he sees her running off.

"Oh damn, she's running right towards the water. I'd better go with her," he says with a worried crease between his eyebrows, before he jumps out of the car too, and jogs to catch up with the little girl.

I find myself smiling again. I have been smiling an awful lot today and I'm not sure if I'm quite ready to think about the reason for that, yet.

I retrieve a blanket from the back of the car and follow them to the small lake. Linda has already taken Harry's hand and points to some ducks that she spotted on the water. When I sit down on the blanket (I don't really need to join them admiring some birds), Harry turns around to face me.

"Louis? Do we have something to feed the ducks with?" he calls over to me, seeming pretty excited himself, "She wants to feed them."

"What? Great," I roll my eyes, "What did you tell her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can you come here for a second?" I say and sigh.

Linda doesn't seem to mind him leaving her alone, she is screaming at the ducks in joy. No need to say that the ducks keep as much distance to her as the pond allows them.

"What's wrong?" Harry says when he hesitantly sits down on the blanket next to me.

"How did Linda get the idea of feeding the ducks?" I ask him, crossing my legs.

Harry is wearing black skinny jeans again. He seems to have the same taste as I when it comes to leg-wear. But unlike me, he likes to combine it with colorful and printed button-ups, leaving the first few buttons open. Today his shirt is mostly white, though. I can almost see his whole butterfly tattoo in the middle of his chest, the way he is sitting next to me, slightly leaning back on his hands and stretching out his never-ending legs in front of himself.

When Harry speaks up, I catch myself ogling his body and quickly look up into his eyes. "I asked her if she'd like to feed them," he answers my question.

I press my lips together and shake my head. "Harry," I start, "we never feed the ducks."

"Really?" Harry says, always keeping an eye on Linda, "But that's always so much fun!"

I pull a face at him. "No doubt," I deadpan, "But we never feed anything, that's why we don't have any pets. We can't afford to give our food to some animal, especially ducks that have a pretty good life even without our food."

"Oh," Harry says, looking sympathetic which bugs me a little.

"We never told her that feeding animals is a thing," I tell him, "She didn't even know about feeding ducks until now."

Right at that moment, Linda turns around and beams at us. "I wanna eat them!" she screams at us in delight, at which I laugh while Harry looks mortified.

"Seems like she didn't really get what you meant by 'feeding'," I chuckle.

"Oh god! She's a monster at the age of two," Harry shudders.

"We do eat them, Harry," I remind him with a smirk.

"And she knows that?" he wonders.

"Now she does, I guess," I wink at him and he blushes, staring at me.

"I made a monster," whispers the curly boy in mock horror, after a pause.

"Don't sweat it, Frankenstein," I laugh, "I don’t think she even knows what she's talking about half of the time."

He's still blushing, keeping his eyes on Linda. I smirk, looking at the glistening water in front of us. It's such a great feeling to make him blush like that. Not only does he look adorable with rosy cheeks, but I also enjoy the fact that I can have that effect on him.

"The duckies don't like me," Linda pouts next to me. I didn't even see her approach.

I smile in amusement. "Have you considered screaming at them?” I joke, poking at her tummy, “Maybe that will make them like you.” Harry giggles next to me.

Linda only looks back at me blankly. "I want a ducky," she says, instead of responding.

I sigh exaggeratedly, pressing my lips together. "Alas, sucks but they're all the way across the water," I pull a disappointed face, "too bad."

"Get them," the little devil commands.

"What? No," I laugh, "You get them."

"Louis!" Harry's voice sounds shocked.

I look at him, laughing. "What?" I chuckle, "She wants one, she can have one... if she doesn't drown before," I turn to Linda, "Go ahead, choose whichever fat bird your heart desires, princess."

She beams at me excitedly, turns around and runs to the edge of the water.

"Oh god," Harry exclaims, jumping up and running after Linda. "You can't go in there, love," he picks the toddler up, supporting her weight with his left hip, his arms securely around her tiny form.

"I wanna swim," Linda says, crossing her arms and pouting again. She knows exactly what to do to get her way.

I laugh, until I hear Harry say, "Okay, sweetie, let's make a deal. We all go in there together, but we stay by the shore, agreed?"

I shake my head aggressively. "Oh no, I'm not going in there, no chance," I say, before they even look at me.

Harry turns around to me. "Why not? The sun is shining," Harry smirks at me.

"I don't want to," I stumble without really knowing why.

"He doesn't want to, Linda," Harry says to the little girl, "What do you think of that?"

"You _must,_ Louiee," she calls, resting her hand on her hip like she knows from Perrie.

"No, it's way too cold," I say, "It's April, and also I'm shot, for fu-"

"Okay!" Harry says in a loud voice, smiling, "But we're going in, right?"

Linda cheers and wiggles herself out of Harry's arms.

"We'll keep our clothes on, though," Harry says to her when she tries to get out of her yellow dress, "Louis is right, the water is still pretty cold. We'll only go in for a few minutes, okay?"

He's crouched down in front of her and looks into her face, waiting for her confirmation. He looks like a concerned father that wants to make his daughter happy at every chance he gets, but still helicopters around her to make sure she won't get a single scratch.

When Linda nods her little head, Harry helps her out of her shoes and picks her up again.

Together they inch into the crystal clear water of the small lake, seeming to blend out everything around them. Linda squeaks when the cold water first touches her bare feet but she stays strong and doesn't back out. She's a Sparrow, what did you expect.

While they get lost in their little world, I get lost in mine.

I can't move my gaze away from Harry's white shirt that is soaking in water more and more as he steps deeper into the pond. It clings to his incredibly well-build torso where it turns as good as translucent, showing off not only his many tattoos but also every shape his upper body has to offer. I can see the muscles on his back moving under his shirt, his shoulder blade poking out on the side where his arm props up Linda on his hip.

When he turns around, laughing with Linda, his dimples indent his cheeks as he squints at me because the sun is shining right at him, reflecting on his pale skin. His chest tattoos are as distinct as if he wasn't even wearing a shirt and he smiles at me while running his wet hand through his hair. He looks heavenly.

When they have moved far enough into the pond for the water to reach their shoulders, they cheer and Linda screams for the ducks again before Harry brings her back closer to the edge of the water where she can stand on her own. He sits down next to her and they begin splashing around with the presumably ice cold water. I can't help but shudder just by watching them.

After a while Harry gets up and wades deeper into the water, telling Linda to stay there. Then, he dives under water completely and comes back up with soaking wet hair that doesn't look as curly anymore and is plastered to his face.

When he dives under water the next time, he doesn't come back up immediately and I think I know what he has in mind. Sure enough, after an alarmingly long time under water, he jumps out right in front of Linda.

"Ha!" he laughs while she is screaming in her high pitched voice.

Then they start splashing water at each other again. They look so happy, so carefree. Like two best buddies having a blast.

"Okay... okay, okay, Linda!" Harry laughs after a while, "Let's get back outside, huh?"

"NOOO!" Linda whines and splashes more water at Harry.

"But it's cold, we don't want to get sick," he tries to reason while approaching her.

At that, Linda only fills her mouth with water and spits it at him, laughing at his silly face afterwards. I find myself laughing, too. She's such a brat.

"Alright," Harry says, getting up, "If that’s so, you’ll have to stay here alone. I'm going back to Louis."

When his bare feet are back on the grass at the shore, Linda still hasn't moved. Instead, she has started splashing water around on her own, focusing back on the ducks on the other side of the pond.

Harry turns around while walking towards me, "Don't make me come and get you," he yells to the little girl, but I don't think she pays attention.

Harry smiles when he reaches me, his eyes bright as he is towering over me. "That was fun," he beams and shakes the excess water out of his hair, splattering me with it.

I jump up to my feet in shock of the ice cold water. "Shit, Harry!" I yell angrily, the water is even colder than I expected.

Harry laughs, only looking at me. After a pause, his expression turns serious and he takes one last step towards me. When I see the small droplets of water on Harry's nose and forehead, I realize just how close we are and suddenly feel my mouth go dry. I swallow hard.

"What," Harry smirks, putting his icy hands on my waist, his voice sounding even deeper and slower that usually, "The fearless gang leader is afraid of a bit of water?"

I'm literally frozen in shock, I only stare up into his eyes with my lips slightly parted in surprise. I didn't know he could get like this; smirking in confidence, making my knees feel weak.

My mind focuses on his hands that rest on my hip, heavy and firmly. "I-I..." I can't seem to form any words. My heart is racing in my chest.

Harry licks his lips and leans in until I can feel his cold lips against my ear. I shudder involuntarily. "Don't worry, Lou," he hums against my earlobe, and I can feel my cheeks heat up at the sound of the nickname. "You're not half as wet as I am," he whispers.

My breath hitches and I turn my head to look at him, but instead, my eyes flicker to his lips. They are still shiny and moist from the lake water and look so plum and soft. He's so close that I can feel his cool breath on my skin. I look back up into his green eyes which are staring back at me with an unreadable gleam.

"Hawwyyy," Linda's voice makes me start as she slams into Harry's legs, hugging one of it and making Harry lose his balance for a second. His hand leaves my waist and is replaced by an even icier, empty feeling on my skin. Harry turns around to face Linda and crouches down in front of her again, examining her face.

"Oh shoot, your lips are all blue," he says, his voice worried and not at all as seductive as it was a moment ago.

"Come here, we'll both warm up again in no time," he smiles at her, taking the blanket that I’ve been sitting on and wrapping it around his shoulders. When he sits down, he loops his arms around Linda's tiny body from behind, wrapping as much of the blanket around her as he can.

I decide that it's a good idea to sit down too when I realize how tight my pants have become because of Harry's actions before Linda interrupted us. I sit down next to them, pulling my knees up to my chest to conceal my crotch.

"I want a ducky," I hear Linda whisper in Harry's arms in a disappointed tone.

Harry chuckles softly, "But this is their home, sweetheart," he explains with a smile, "And they are a family. We shouldn't take that away from them, right? They need to stay here, where they belong."

Ouch, I'm not sure if Harry is aware of what he just said, but I hope he doesn't realize that he just explained to Linda that it's wrong to do exactly what we did to him.

"But we can always come back to see them again, um" he says and then looks to me, "only if that's okay with Louis of course."

I try to give him a smile, but fail miserably. I still feel so awkward about the tightness in my pants. Harry looks back at me, seemingly trying to figure out what's wrong with me, but I only look away.

"We should probably go back. Linda is shaking," he says, rubbing her arms underneath the blanket.

"Yeah, you two go ahead," I say, looking down at the slight bulge between my legs, still visible, "I think you could use a head start." I smile uncomfortably.

Harry narrows his eyes in confusion but gets up with Linda and takes her back to their abandoned shoes to put them back on.

When they are turned away from me, I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding in and rub my palms over my face. Oh god, what is happening? I am sleeping in the same room as this guy. This guy that should actually be my hostage but instead, makes my whole body tingle by looking at him. I'm so screwed.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Harry's POV**

"If we don't get another kill within the next half hour, we'll go home," Niall mutters, little hope remaining in his voice.

He took me on a hunting trip this morning because nobody wanted to join him. I see this as an opportunity to get to know the forest a little better, so maybe someday I can try to escape. I feel like I got a little sidetracked from my mission to escape lately. When Niall woke me up this morning (Louis didn't even stir in his sleep), I agreed to go with him immediately. I want to memorize as much of the forest as I can, but what is there to memorize really if you pass one tree after the other. It all looks the same to me.

"Do you want to shoot this time?" Niall pulls me away from my thoughts.

We are hiding in a bush on the edge of a clearing with flowers and weeds. It's quite a pretty place that I will definitely be able to memorize.

I shake my head. "I'm good," I say politely.

Niall chuckles. "You're scared of killing things?" he teases.

"Not scared in particular," I say, keeping my eyes on the clearing in front of us, "I just don't like the idea of it."

"Well, we need to hunt, though. The less offences we commit, the better," Niall explains, "We always try to stay low key, unlike a lot of other gangs. We just don't want to attract too much attention by raiding and stealing. It's safer that way."

I look at him and nod my head slowly. "Yeah, I get that," I say, "But still, I'd rather not kill anything myself."

We already got some wild turkey on our way here and a fox after we sat right here for almost an hour. Niall shot both of them, he is really good with a bow and arrow. He killed the turkey with one shot and only needed two arrows to paralyze the fox enough so it couldn't run away anymore. I didn't watch when he killed it with a knife.

Niall said the fox isn't the best animal to have for dinner. It has an acquired taste and it is dry and kind of tough because a fox has so little fat. That is probably the reason why you can't buy fox meat in a store. The only way the Sparrows eat fox is in a stew with potatoes and carrots because after cooking the meat for several hours it loses its toughness a bit and you can pretend that it is beef.

"Actually," Niall chuckles again, "I've never met a guy that doesn't like to hunt, well except for Evan."

"You haven't?"

"Yeah, it's weird. Isn't that what we were born to do?" Niall jokes.

"If you want to go back to Stone Age, yeah probably," I scoff, pushing his shoulder lightly.

"Hey, watch your tone, mate," Niall laughs.

"What? You're already living in a cave, right?" I push further, laughing too.

It's so weird how casually I am talking to the members of this gang, once I’ve got to know them. I was so intimidated by the idea of being kidnapped by this gang until I realized just how normal they actually are.

After spending some time with Niall and Louis, I find it surprisingly easy to forget that they are keeping me here against my will. It feels like hanging out with friends. Though, I have to admit that I don't know much about real friends. It might seem like I have a lot of them but I always feel like they keep me around because I am one of them, one of the rich people. They all pretend to be friends because we are all part of the same club of rich people, throwing fancy parties, wearing designer clothes and talking about how rich and cool we are. In other words, we bore ourselves to death.

With my friends I always have to think twice about what I say, not to offend them or seem like a loser. Now sitting here with Niall feels so much more relaxing. I feel like I can be myself with him and say whatever I want. It's a nice feeling.

"But seriously, Harry," Niall's smile is gone again, "Don't you agree that it is a bit weird? You don't like hunting, but you helped the girls with the dishes yesterday."

I frown at his comment, but I am not surprised. I hate how narrow-minded our society is. "Oh, word travels fast, huh?" is all I can seem to answer.

"Yeah like, I'm not trying to say you're not manly enough, but that's not your job. I mean it's nice that you help the girls, but we have other jobs, like hunting. I know this is probably nothing you are used to. You probably help your mom all the time, but people usually have certain standards in this town. They stick to what they know and approve of very little that differs from their customs, their believes. People might talk." Niall's voice sounds worried when he finishes.

"Does it matter what other people might think? Can’t you have your own opinion? I for one find that 'custom' pretty corrupt," I say boldly, "Whether the girls are okay with doing the cleaning all the time or not, I think it's very limiting to restrict duties, or anything really, to gender. Maybe you have a girl in your gang that is amazing at hunting or combat or whatever you guys do. And maybe one of the guys isn't really made for hunting and fighting and raiding trucks."

"Are you talking about someone in particular?" Niall asks a little defensive.

"I don't know you guys enough. I can't be sure. But that boy, rather tall, brunette; Evan, is it," I say and continue when Niall nods his head, "he doesn't seem fit for the job, or comfortable at it."

Niall doesn't answer to that, he only keeps his gaze on the forest as if to look for an animal, but his eyes look far away in thought.

"Do you remember the other day, when Louis and I came back from the pond with Linda," I ask and try to recall the events myself.

_Louis had turned up the heat in the car to the max on our way home, so Linda and I had a chance at properly warm up again. When we arrived at the cave Linda's lips didn't look blue anymore and she had stopped shaking._

_She insisted on taking both Louis' and my hand when we walked back in and she looked utterly pleased, walking into the Main Hall in between me and Louis._

_When we reached the others, a young boy with dark, wavy hair giggled. "You look like two dads," he laughed, his hand covering his mouth._

_"Ugh, Peter, seriously?" Beth grimaced, leaning back against Niall's chest._

_"Nobody has two dads," Carlos agreed, "That's just weird, don't even suggest that."_

_Everyone around the fire looked at Peter either with a frown or expectation on their faces, making Peter's face turn crimson._

_"Sorry, boss, I didn't mean it like that," he murmured, looking down. And that was the end of it._

"That was really stereotype. Peter wasn't even implying anything," I say and Niall finally looks back at me.

"Implying something? When?" Niall says.

"When he said that about me and Louis," I explain, "About how we were looking like two dads? That wasn't even offending to me, and I think the same goes for Louis. It's the same problem as having the girls only do this and the boys only do that. It's limiting, at the least."

"You think so?" Niall frowns, "But that's just how it is, how it's always been, really."

"But it's not very nice," I counter, "You shouldn't be judged on what you're good at and who you are."

"I know that," Niall says intently.

"I'm saying that there shouldn't be anything wrong with having two dads," I clarify, "or being one of those two dads, because that would just be who they are. They wouldn't be themselves if they lived like my parents."

I know that I am completely talking around the topic, around the word, but I'm still not sure how Niall would react to it, so I try to phrase it as neutral as possible.

"Peter didn't mean anything by what he said, I'm sure," I say, looking down, "I don't think your gang members should've reacted like that."

"But don't you think they were right?" Niall raises his eyebrows and his blue eyes shine in curiosity.

"Do _you_?" I raise my eyebrows as well.

"Dunno," Niall mumbles, shrugging his shoulders, "Never really thought about it."

"I've thought about it a lot lately," I say, "I don't know where it comes from, to be honest. I never thought about it either, until a while ago. It was just never on my radar. Nobody ever talks about it, right? But now I do think about it, a lot."

I've never thought so strongly about this topic before, and now I feel like it is one of the main inequities our society deals with. Or doesn't deal with actually.

"It's not very nice how those people are treated," I say tentatively even though I intended to use the word "horrible", but I don't want to go too far with my opinion before I know how Niall will take it. He only stares at me with a blank expression. Not really enthusiastic, but also not hateful.

"I mean..." I begin gingerly, talking really slow because I'm not too sure about my latest brainwaves myself, "Don't you think it's like... ignorant? Like, just because it's part of them. They can't change it. It seems kind of rude to treat them differently because of that."

Niall hasn't stopped looking at me, but his eyes have unfocused more and more in the past minute or so. "Yeah, suppose..." he hums.

"You know, I just don't like people getting hurt..." I say in a sad voice.

Niall doesn't react, he seems thoughtful.

"...and it hurts them," I add quietly, almost to myself.

Niall nods slowly as his eyes refocus on me. "Yeah, guess that's true. I never thought about it from that perspective but I'm sure they'd change it if they could," he says and a frown creeps onto my face.

"I don't think they should want to change it," I reply, "If they are happy that way, why not? They're not doing any harm, it's not like a disease that you can catch if you get too close. They are no worse or better people than you and I. It's nothing bad to be- like that. There is no reason it should be something that you should try to avoid."

"Well, I don't know about you but I would wanna change it if I was..." he avoids the word too, and he looks wary now, "I'm not, though," he adds.

"I wouldn't mind if you were," I assure him with a reassuring smile.

"But I'm not," he repeats.

"Why would you want to change it?" I hum sadly, "You think it's gross?"

Niall narrows his eyes at me for a second, hesitating. I feel like he is as unsure about how much of his real opinion he can share as I am.

"No..." he begins and ducks his head as if expecting a punch in the face, "But I wouldn't wanna get beaten up for it."

His eyes look at me with a somewhat timid expression which surprises me. _I_ should be watching my mouth, not him. Suddenly, an idea hits upon me. I want to see just how much we are on the same page here, so I'm going to push him.

"But you can't choose," I say.

"Hypothetically _,_ " Niall corrects me, then replies, "But if I could choose, I would."

"But you can't," I repeat.

"Yeah, but _if_ I could," Niall insists.

"No ifs, Niall," I say and feel somewhat wicked, "You can't choose."

"Yeah, I know," Niall raises his voice, and chuckles when he realizes just how intense our conversation has gotten, "I know, H. I can't choose. And I don't have to. I'm straight, and we both know that this is a damn good thing in this world that we had the misfortune to be born into."

"So deep," I chuckle too. I'm glad Niall didn't totally freak out yet.

"Ha, yeah, I forgot," Niall scoffs, " _I_ am the unfortunate one here, _you_ have everything anyone could ever want."

" _Everything_ ," I emphasize mockingly and we share a laugh until I grow earnest again.

"It's wrong," I hum.

"What is?" Niall replies.

"To treat them like they're bad people," I answer, "They are treated horribly for something they have no influence on. I mean you can't help falling for someone right? It just kinda happens." I look down.

Niall hums in agreement.

"It's no crime to fall in love, right? Then it also shouldn't be a crime to be... gay," I finally say the word and I'm glad Niall doesn't cringe, "And still they are treated like scum, it's wrong," I continue. It's good to say all these things that have crowded my mind lately. I'm glad I can talk to Niall like that.

"I know," Niall admits, "and I know you're probably right, but you know how people get if you only mention the possibility of someone being..." he hesitates, "gay," he smiles at me shyly, "You're the trash of society if you are gay. I think it's because people don't talk about it. They don't even try to understand. They just repeat each other’s words parrot-style without thinking about what they are saying. Nobody ever says what they really think because they are scared of what the other might think, or might do. I mean look at us," Niall chuckles suddenly, "We were pissing our pants before we even dared to say the word."

"Gay," I say loudly and immediately press my hand over my mouth, craning my head in all directions to see if someone had heard.

When my eyes meet Niall's, we both begin to laugh.

"Yeah, gay," Niall chuckles, "God, we are such pussies."

"We really are," I chuckle too, then add, "But we are better than society, I guess. We think about it differently _and_ we both did just talk about it," I smile jokingly, "We should be proud."

"Society sucks," Niall nods, sobering up again, "You know what I heard someone say, the other day? We were hanging out with some Shark Heads at the beach, they are kinda like our allies/friends, whatever you wanna call them. Whatever, one of them said something like, 'I dunno what's worse, two guys getting it on together or rape'."

My eyes grow wide at that and I feel my cheeks heating up. I don't know whether it's outrage or anger, though.

"He's an asshole," Niall tries to reassure me with a shrug, "He's pretty much the only person in that gang that I can't stand, and he sucks at football, so..."

I can't help laughing. Niall can always lighten my mood. I feel like I can trust him thoroughly.

"He is wrong, though," I say, meaning it, "It's not. Gay sex isn't like rape at all. Gay sex is like straight sex. If both want it, it's totally fine... right?"

Niall shrugs. "That's what you think," he says with a small smile, "That's probably not what most people think."

"It's still wrong," I says angrily, frowning.

"I know, Harry. But what's the use," Niall says, putting a hand on my shoulder, "Let's just call ourselves lucky for not being gay in this messed up world."

He looks back over the clearing, refocusing his attention on the hunting and thereby ending the conversation.

"Yeah, we're so lucky..." I mumble quietly.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Louis' POV**

"Oi, Tommo, Malik! Put out the spliff, the cops are here!" Carlos shouts across the camp fire.

Both, me and Zayn look up quickly, even though we're not even smoking anything right now. We'd never bring weed back here to the cave, with all the children around and what not.

Carlos starts laughing at our faces when we both realize that he is talking about Liam and Niall who just entered the main hall. He's so annoying at times. I roll my eyes.

"Man, you don't believe how nice it is to finally be able to take our shifts together again," Niall exclaims when he sits down next to me. He and Liam just got back from their shifts at the police office, apparently.

"It was so boring without you, bro," he says to Liam, fist-bumping with him, and dives right into the stew we are having tonight. It's fox stew from the fox that Niall and Harry shot this morning. It tastes just as delicious as it sounds, especially with our killer homemade bread as a side. No honestly, it could kill you. But it's better than nothing, I guess.

"How was work?" Zayn asks Liam, mainly out of habit.

"Harry's mom was there," Liam says as if he just remembered, looking up to meet his eyes on the other side of the camp fire.

Harry looks back at him with obvious surprise on his face and I can see his body tensing up, but he doesn't say anything.

"What'd she want?" Perrie asks with a worried glance towards Harry.

"She came in to record a video," Liam explains, "It's supposed to be broadcast several times a day, today and tomorrow. She is pleading for us to bring Harry back to her and saying how she hasn't seen him for over a week now."

Something heavy settles down on my chest. This is nothing we should bring up in front of Harry, he probably has enough thoughts about running away as it is.

"It's only been a week?" Beth blurts obliviously, "Feels like he's been here for ages."

 _Great, thank you for your input, Beth,_ I internally roll my eyes.

"Harry's mom apparently feels the same way, she's been crying during the filming," Liam adds. _Nice one, pinhead._

"Oh, come on," Zayn smirks, "because she hasn't seen him for a week? I bet my mom _still_ hasn't shed a tear over me." _No fucking way, Malik!_ I know he doesn't mean any harm. He is only still not over the fact that his parents kicked him out when he was sixteen. He wishes his mom would miss him, too, even if he'd never admit it.

Still I feel my blood starting to boil, the instant those words leave Zayn's mouth, and my eyes flicker over to Harry. He has gone pale, and his nostrils are flared wide while his shiny eyes aren't blinking. When his gaze meets mine, he looks away immediately. He gets up without looking at somebody else and walks away from the camp fire, disappearing in one of the darkest corners of the main hall that the light of the various fireplaces can't reach.

"Way to go, lads," I snarl and look at my friends in anger, "Freaking great job, all of you."

Before anyone of them can respond, I get up after Harry and follow him to his hideout.

He is sitting in semi-darkness, leaning against the cave wall. He doesn't look up when I approach him.

"Harry?" I say hesitantly, standing in front of him, not knowing what to do with my hands.

He doesn't answer. In fact, he doesn't react at all. He only keeps staring at the air in front of him, ignoring me completely.

However, I try again. "Can I sit with you or do you want me to leave?" I say firmly.

"What does it matter?" Harry huffs, looking up at me, "I'm your captive. I can't tell you what to do. If you want to sit, you'll just sit down and do whatever you want. That's how it works, right," His voice sounds throaty and irritated.

I feel my shoulders slump slightly at his words. "Got it," I hum and turn on my heels to leave him alone again.

"Wait!" he says hastily, and I feel his fingertips grazing my injured calf, noticeably avoiding the bandaged part.

The gentle touch makes me shudder pathetically, and I know Harry must see it too, but when I turn around to face him again, he generously ignores it.

"Please," he smiles apologetically, "Sit?"

I return his smile and let out a sigh of relief after I sat down next to Harry. I'm surprised of how much I was worried that he'd be angry with me.

"Do you wanna talk?" I say, trying to be delicate.

Harry looks at me sideways. "About what?"

"I don't know," I shrug, "Tell me about your mom. What is she like?"

When I see the frown on Harry's face, I'm scared that he'll get up and leave again, but then his features soften and the emotion left on this face looks like sorrow.

"Well..." he hesitates, looking at his hands that rest on his thighs, "She... she's very kind," he smiles sadly, "She's always nice to everyone she meets and she always has a smile on her face. She is the most caring person in the world. I miss her."

The curly boy next to me looks at me through his shiny eyes again, this time not breaking eye contact immediately. I only stare back at him without a word. All I can concentrate on is the oozy guilt seeping through every cell in my body. Here we are, all having lost our parents one way or the other, and still, we are going ahead and take Harry away from his own parents without a second glance.

"She is respectful to everyone, no matter how disrespectful they treat her, or me and my sister. She says everyone deserves respect, no matter what. And when we were little, she used to tell us the most amazing bed time stories ...I can talk to her about everything, she's just a very warm person," he smiles at me, this time it lights up his face and his dimples show, "she is incredible."

"Sounds like she is a lot like you," I smile back.

"Not really," Harry laughs, "She is like the best cook in the world."

I pull a face at him. "Wow, so many differences," I gape mockingly.

"That was just an example," Harry explains, chuckling, "But I'm nothing like her, I always try to be as nice to everyone as she is, but I just get mad sometimes."

"Ooh, you bad, bad boy," I laugh, "You dare to get angry at people when they give you shit?"

Harry nods guiltily, his curls falling into his face.

"Jeez, Harold, I expected more of you," I shake my head, adopting a stunned expression on my face, "Your mom must be so disappointed in you," I chuckle.

"Would your mom be happy if you said mean things about people?" Harry counters.

My mom. I'm still not sure if I want to talk to him about her or not. But he did tell me about his, too, so. "She'd be happy if I stood up for myself, I guess..." I begin with the same hesitation as Harry did before. Harry only looks back at me in expectation.

"She showed me how to defend yourself against people that use you, or don't actually care about you," I say as my eyes unfocus.

"How did she do that?" Harry's voice sounds curious.

"She had to protect me from somebody all her life," I answer simply, "And I always watched her standing up for herself and not taking any crap he gave her. She was a very strong woman," I smile at the memory of her.

"When she died, I knew I had to keep fighting. I had to do it for her," I say when Harry doesn't react, "I had to start defending myself and be as strong as she was, because all she ever wanted was for me to be save. I didn't know it then. But I knew that I would lose her completely if I didn't start fighting for myself."

"How did she die... if that's not too personal," Harry asks quietly, his whole upper body has turned towards me and he looks directly into my eyes. Somehow it feels comforting, and I realize that it might be good for me to tell him about my past. Well, at least about this part of it.

"She always did everything she could to keep me save from that person. He made her life miserable, he took her money to buy himself liquor and he was never there for her. She worked so hard to give me a normal life and he only ever came to get more money. One day he even started to steal from her. At some point he apparently got into some drug mess and couldn't pay the pushers anymore. They murdered her a few weeks later," I feel that my voice is about to crack and try to swallow, but my mouth has gone dry.

Harry touches my thigh right above my knee and looks at me encouragingly.

"The pushers must have thought it would ruin him if they killed my mom, but I know it didn't. He didn't care one bit. He didn't even give her a real funeral, nobody was there when she was buried. He spent all the rest of her money for more drugs instead," I continue.

"He is your father right?" Harry assumes, pulling his hand away again.

I look away from him quickly. "He's just some random stranger," I mutter with a frown, "Nothing more. He doesn’t deserve that title." I clear my throat that has somehow gotten clogged up in the past couple of minutes. "He wanted to have me, afterwards," I say after a pause, "Suddenly he was able to pretend that he cared. But I ran away before he could get to me. I haven't seen him since I was eight."

"Eight?" Harry repeats in shock.

"Yeah, but I was only homeless for a couple of weeks," I shrug, "Then Julian found me. He was one of our captains back then, and now I'm here," I gesture into the air. I can't believe that I just told Harry all these things. I don’t even know him.

"So to come back to your original question," I say and smile again to lighten up the mood, "I think my mom wouldn't mind the sass," I wink at Harry.

"I see," he chuckles, "When I think about it that way, I guess my mom would also be proud of me in your situation."

"I'm sure she would," I smile and Harry returns it in an instant.

"She would like you," he says, still smiling at me, “my mom.”

"She would?" I'm slightly stunned by his words, I didn't expect them.

Harry only nods.

"She likes people who are strong and funny, and have a big heart,” he licks his lips before he continues, “You wanna know what she does when she likes a person?" Harry chuckles lightly.

"Hm?" I'm too distracted by his dimples to answer in words.

"She hugs them really tightly and pinches their cheeks," he says and gently pinches the skin of my cheek between his thumb and index finger, "just like that."

I pull a funny face at him and chuckle myself. "You know," I grin cheekily, "I could really use a demonstration of the hugging part as well. Can't really envision it in my mind."

There is still a soft smile touching Harry's lips while he looks into my eyes, but he looks almost wary now. Without realizing it, I lose myself in his eyes. They are several shades darker in this corner of the cave that is so dimly lit. I can literally feel how the mood between us shifts while staring at each other. Suddenly I feel weirdly attentive of every move Harry is making and everything that is him.

As if in slow motion, Harry carefully lays his muscular arm over my shoulder and loops the other one around my waist, tentatively pulling me into his chest. At first I want to feel awkward, but when I feel the warmth of his body and the way his chest rises and falls against mine with every breath he takes, I only feel comfortable and wrap my arms around his waist as well.

Simply because our position asks for it – _no other reason_ \- I nuzzle my face into the crook of Harry's neck, closing my eyes, and melt into the hug.

He feels so warm and cozy, I've missed hugs like this. Although, I think I can already say that no hug before has ever made me feel like this. When I feel his fingers graze over the small of my back, my heart starts to thud heavily in my chest that is pressed against Harry's. He must notice because he pulls me into him tighter and hums lowly.

"You know what she would do, as well?" he says almost in a whisper, and for a moment I don't know who he is talking about, until I remember. Yeah, we were only hugging for demonstration here.

"This..." he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice, before I feel his hand move upwards from my shoulder and he begins to stroke over my hair gently.

I react automatically, nuzzling further into Harry's neck where my lips graze his collarbone softly. He smells incredible; masculine, fresh and somehow just damn sexy.

When Harry uses his voice next, for some reason it sounds raspy and thick. "And when she _really_ likes someone," he gulps, and I see his Adam's apple bob right in front of my eyes, "she does this."

The next thing I realize is his warm lips softly pressing against my forehead, lingering there a moment longer than necessary, before he kisses it tenderly.

With a bewildered expression on my face, I pull away far enough to look into his eyes, resting my hand on his chest for leverage. "Did you just _kiss_ me?" I ask in astonishment, my voice sounding a tad too squeaky for my liking.

"Oh, I-I think I did," Harry says, ducking his head, and looking self-conscious and a bit unsure now, "I'm sorry! Did I go too far?" I can see the regret on his face as he starts pulling away from me.

"No!" I say hastily and pull him back in, making eye contact with this boy that makes me feel like myself for the first time in years. I cup his cheek with my hand, and he wraps his arms back around me. "No," I repeat in a whisper while my index finger reassuringly touches his earlobe, "it's okay. I don't mind."

Harry exhales audibly, his breath touching my face. "Good," he says, connecting his forehead with mine. His eyes flutter shut, and for a moment I only watch him, being so close to me. He doesn't move a muscle and it makes him almost look like a roman statue, an incredibly beautiful one at that.

"You know," he whispers, his voice sounding deep and hoarse, "I should actually hate you."

I gulp. "I know," I say under my breath and also close my eyes momentarily. I hate that he is saying the truth. He should hate me. I’ve done a terrible thing to him. I don’t want him to hate me. Not at all. I pull away from Harry completely and settle down next to him, again. The same way I did before we hugged.

It takes a minute for my heart rate to calm down again and my hands to stop fidgeting, but eventually I'm able to look at Harry again. He has his hands wedged in between his legs which I modestly take as a sign that his hands were also shaking uncontrollably, and I can't help the smug smile crossing my face.

"So," I break the silence after a few minutes, "You said your mom is a good cook? What's your favorite dish that she cooks for you?" This is the first harmless question that came to my mind in this moment. I'm insanely creative these days.

Harry laughs awkwardly and quickly pulls his hands back onto his lap. "Uh well, that's not exactly a simple question," he says and clears his throat that still sounds a bit breathy, "Probably some fancy chicken and mashed potato dish that she only ever makes for Christmas... But I particularly like the simple things she makes on a daily basis, like Nutella and banana crepes, or turkey and ham sandwiches."

"Nutella?" I exclaim giddily, "Oh, I love that stuff!"

"Me too," Harry says excitedly, "When I was little, I always wanted to fill up our pool with it and dive in. But my parents never allowed it."

He looks so genuinely disappointed that I can't help but laugh. "Rich white girl problems, huh?" I remark.

"Ha-ha," Harry says dryly, "I was a kid. Every kid wants that, admit it."

"Touché," I shrug with a smirk.

"What's your favorite food?" Harry says, and I am sure he does it to get my mind off the fact that he is stinking rich while I'm living hand to mouth. But think again, snob, I'm not letting you off that easily.

"Oh, I'm quite fond of Liam's grilled squirrels, actually," I joke, "And our bread.. man, it's out of this world, don't you think?"

He laughs at that. "It's definitely something else," he chuckles, "But I could help you out with that, you know? I work at a bakery. I know how to bake good bread."

"You work at a bakery?" I repeat perplexed. Why didn’t I know that about him?

"Yeah, I know I don't have to and my friends kinda make fun of me because..." he smiles shyly, "well my parents have enough money, right? But it's fun, and the ladies that I work with are really nice."

"Ladies?" I squeak, feeling some unwelcome jealousy rising in my chest. I really don't want to know how many of these girls he already dated.

Before Harry can reply, Liam appears in the concealment of our little corner. Thank god he didn't show up here a few minutes earlier when Harry and I were practically entangled with each other. He would have definitely not liked that.

"Lou?" he says to me, wearing a stern expression on his face, "Can you come back? We need to talk to you."


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

***twenty minutes earlier***

**Liam's POV**

"Hey Niall, don't forget your bag on the truck bed," I yell over to the blonde lad who already ran off in the direction of our cave, probably already on his pursue of finding something to eat. "I'm not going to carry it for you, lazy ass."

Niall turns around, spurts past me to get his bag, and catches up with me in no time to walk next to me.

"What? Are you scared someone might find my uniform and think that the police can't afford their own places in the city anymore, and has to live like cavemen?" Niall jokes a little pumped out from the sprint.

We always change out of our uniforms before we make our way home so nobody gets suspicious when they see a couple of policemen driving into the woods to the same place every night. Our co-workers think, Niall and I live in an apartment building in the city. We're supposed to be neighbors and have known each other since first grade.

"They'd have to find our cave out here first. We don't keep our cars a good while away from the entry for no reason, Payno," Niall bumps into me slightly.

"I'm just trying to be careful, okay?" I tell him, "Now that we have an upper class captive, we need to be extra sure not to be exposed."

"Chill, bro," Niall laughs and pads my shoulder, "They don't even suspect us. They think you have a wifey and two little boys, remember?"

Oh yeah, I remember, Niall thought it was funny to embellish our little life story when he started his internship.

"Dick and sweet little Willy Payne," Niall snickers, putting his arm over my shoulders jokingly.

I push him away with a frown. "Yeah, and don't forget what you called my wife. Anissa, but I just call her Anis," I grumble.

"What?" Niall laughs innocently, stretching the word, "Why would you call her Anis, Liam? That doesn't make sense. Her name is Danielle, remember?"

I sigh. "You know I haven't seen that girl in years now," I mumble when we enter the cave.

"Oh, I know," Niall rolls his eyes, "And still, I can here you sobbing her name at night through the cave walls."

"Not true, wanker," I call and push Niall away again.

"Maybe," Niall admits, "But you _are_ still moping over her. You need to find someone else, mate. Get over her."

"Shut up," I snarl when I can't come up with a better comeback, "Worry about your own relationship."

"I don't have a relationship," Niall shrugs, "Nothing to worry about."

"That so?" I say and lower my voice, since we're already in earshot of the others that are sitting around the camp fire, having dinner, "I'm pretty sure Bethany thinks the two of you are already on your way down the aisle."

"Oh pssh, Beth knows we're just messing around," Niall laughs.

"You sure? You might wanna tell her about that, too," I murmur in his ear when I see Bethany waving Niall over with a beaming smile.

Niall ignores her. "Man, you don't believe how nice it is to finally be able to take our shifts together again," he says to nobody in particular as he sits down next to Louis. Somehow he already has a bowl of stew in his hands. How does he do it?

I sit down next to him and try to forget about his accusations about my first real girlfriend Danielle. She was four years older than me, she was beautiful and popular. I never understood how I deserved her at the time, so no wonder I'm still kind of hung up on her.

I hear Niall talking again before I realize that he is holding his fist out for me to bump it with mine, even though I didn't quite catch what he said. So I bump my fist with his and finally pull myself away from my thoughts.

Perrie who is sitting to my left, hands me a bowl of stew and a spoon. Fox stew, oh well.

"Thanks, love," I smile at her.

"How was work?" Zayn says, without looking at me or Niall, his bowl is already empty and he's scribbling into his sketchbook.

I guess work was like always, only a lot less boring with Niall being around. But then I remember the turmoil this morning and my eyes meet those of our prisoner. "Harry's mom was there," I announce.

I hear everybody suddenly stopping their chatter to listen up.

"What'd she want?" Perrie asks hesitantly.

"She came to record a video. It's supposed to be broadcast several times a day, today and tomorrow," I tell the group of my friends, "She is pleading for us to bring Harry back to her and saying how she hasn't seen him for over a week now."

"It's only been a week?" Beth calls over the camp fire. I can see that she's still huffy about Niall ignoring her earlier. "Feels like he's been here for ages," she rolls her eyes.

"Harry's mom apparently feels the same way," I shrug. "She's been crying during the filming," I say and honestly feel horrible at the memory of her sight. She looked like her whole world was falling apart when she pleaded for her son to come back to her.

"Oh, come on, because she hasn't seen him for a week?" I hear Zayn snort, "I bet my mom _still_ hasn't shed a tear over me."

He laughs shortly, but nobody laughs with him. When he realizes that he is the only one laughing, he stops, looking down to his feet. Perrie sighs and squeezes his thigh lightly. We all know he misses his three sisters and his parents, even though they kicked him out when he was still a minor.

Suddenly Harry gets up and leaves the circle. At first I think he's trying to escape and am about to run after him, but then I realize that he isn't even hurrying or heading towards the exit so I relax again.

"Way to go, lads," I suddenly hear Louis yell, next to Niall. He looks pissed. "Freaking great job, all of you," he huffs, before getting up to run after Harry. We all follow him with our eyes until we can only make out his silhouette in the dark corner of the cave hall that Harry is hiding in.

"Woa, someone's pissy," Carlos breaks the silence first.

"He's certainly gotten over his initial hatred for Harry quickly," Niall says, almost at the same time.

"I don't think he ever really hated him, to be honest," I murmur, scratching my head.

"What?" laughs Kim, an 18 year old girl with blue hair, "He didn't have one good thing to say about him and he wouldn't even call him by his name in the beginning."

"My point," I say without elaborating on my theory.

"Well, I'm glad Louis has come around," Niall says, helping himself to another serving of the awful stew, "Harry's a good lad. He'd seamlessly fit into the Sparrows."

"Only that he doesn't need to be in a gang because he already has a family," I object.

"I'm just saying," Niall shrugs, "And besides, we could use another man around here, since you and I aren't always available with the job and all. Especially because they released the leader of the Creepers and his side hoe again."

"They did what?" Carlos groans.

"Yeah, they weren't at the slaughter house the day we should've gotten the money, so they practically weren't involved in any crime," I explain.

"But in reality, the wardens were simply sick of putting up with their bullshit any longer, so they let them out," Niall adds.

"Gosh, they are probably furious now that they're free again," Perrie says in horror, "I'm sure they're blaming Louis."

I nod in agreement. "And they're out for blood," I say and turn to Niall, "Did you hear how they were cursing out our gang when they left the building?"

"Uh-huh," Niall's eyes go wide in annoyance, "One more reason for me to be available 24/7 again."

"Friday is your last shift for the week," I remind him, "If you want you can quit after that, you're not earning any money anyway,” I say and add jokingly, “Think you're not doing quite as good of a job as I am.”

"Yes please," Niall wails, ignoring my remark, "Eight hours of hard labor at least twice a week is driving me bananas."

"Bananas, am I right?" Carlos snickers, winking at the girl beside him that starts giggling and blushing.

Where am I? How did I end up being part of such an immature group of people?

"Well, we should probably tell Louis before Niall quits the internship," Zayn says to me, leaning over his girlfriend, "He's going to want to know."

"I'll go get him," I agree and get up.

When I reach Louis and Harry in their hideout, they both are sitting against the cave wall, talking to each other. The first thing that I realize is how close they sit to each other, but I brush the thought off quickly. I'm just being weird.

"Ladies?" Louis says to Harry in a high-pitched tone. He obviously hasn't realized my arrival, yet, so I clear my throat.

"Lou?" I say when he looks up at me, "Can you come back? We need to talk to you."

After staring at me for half a second, Louis turns back to Harry, just looking at him for a while. Are they now able to talk telepathically?

"Can you give us a minute?" he says to me, even though he is still looking at the other boy.

"Um, yeah, I guess," I mumble confused and take a few steps back with a frown on my face, before I turn around to return to the others.

"Well, that was weird," I say to Niall, Perrie, and Zayn when I sit down again.

"What's wrong?" Perrie says, looking over to the dark corner to get a glimpse of the two boys.

"Since when do _I_ have to feel like the intruder and not Harry?" I say.

"What did they do?" Zayn asks curiously.

"I think they just talked to each other through mind or something," I say, still feeling puzzled, until the other three are bursting out laughing.

"What are you guys laughing about?" Louis says, sitting down next to Niall. Harry is right there beside him.

"Nothing, nothing," Perrie giggles and wipes her eyes, sobering up quickly, "Just silliness."

"Ohkay," Louis narrows his eyes, looking slightly suspicious, "So... what's up?"

"Niall wants to quit his internship," I inform him, "We just didn't wanna disregard you on the matter."

"No," Louis says to my surprise.

"Wha... Louis?" Niall says just as confused.

"I don't think it's a good idea to just quit the internship," Louis explains, "I came up with another plan, actually."

"What plan, mate?" Zayn asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Well, do you remember what that cop said to me during interrogation the other day?" Louis says, turning to me. "He talked about how I need to go into politics to change stuff, but I'm too stupid to do it."

"You're not stupid," Harry throws in beside him.

Louis smiles at him fondly, before turning back to me.

"But you're our smartest member," he continues soberly, "I think you should try it."

"You what?" Zayn says, not being able to hold in his laughter, "You want that shithead to be a politician?"

"Fuck off," I counter, "better a shithead than a pothead."

"Guys, shut up, for god's sake," Louis interrupts our banter, "I'm being serious. We have no rights, the police does what they want, children are withering away on the streets. We have no other alternative than to live in gangs and we are still being treated like criminals for it."

"Technically we're only being treated like criminals if we commit crimes, which we do," Niall mumbles dumbly.

"Shut it, intern," Louis grins, "But we don't have another choice, right? And I think it's worth a shot to try and change things. I'm not saying Liam needs to be a politician, but maybe he can work for one and see where it gets him."

"No way, man," I shake my head no, " _You_ go into politics if you think it's such a good idea. I'm not cut out for it."

"Come on, Payno. You're already the city's most shining young policeman," Louis teases, "People would be dying to listen to what you have to say."

I really don't know. I'm not very cool, I've never been popular when I was still in school. Nobody would have ever voted me class president in a million years.

"Yeah, come on, Liam," Zayn winks at me and I'm not quite sure if he's all that serious, "I know you can woo a crowd."

"See?" Louis says, "And then Niall could take your place at the police office."

"No," I say finally, "I can't do that, we can't do that. Especially now that we need Niall around 24/7 again."

"And why the hell that?" Louis frowns.

"Well," I start, "Something else happened today at the police station."

"And that would be?"

"We couldn't help it," Niall says, "They released Fletcher and Pickles this afternoon."

Louis only shrugs. "So what? They're not really a threat. Yes, now they can annoy the shit out of me again, but who cares. They were only held there for a couple of days, right? We're used to their ugly faces."

"Louis, they spent their whole time in there badmouthing you and ranting about how you got released so easily and what a pathetic gang we are," Niall says with urgency.

"So? Fletcher was acting like the little bitch he is. He's a bit touchy, we all know that," our leader scoffs.

"No man, he was furious," I tell him, "You should've seen him, we wouldn't be saying it if we didn't mean it. He's going to be looking for you."

"Oh, come on. Since when are we scared of the Creepers? They're a joke," Louis snorts.

"We're not scared of them, Louis," I try to reason, "We're just saying that we need to be a little more careful when it comes to Fletcher."

Louis rolls his eyes. "So we'll be more careful. Done," he shrugs.

"We thought it'd be better if I quit the internship and stay here again for more support," Niall says.

"Guys, jeez," Louis groans, "chill out. There's no need to freak out. The Creepers only know me, Zayn, and Carlos-"

"Yeah, I wonder why," Perrie scoffs somewhat irritated.

"So," Louis ignores her, "we'll just make sure that we don't go into the city alone anymore."

He gives us a second to think about it.

"We'll only go into the city in at least groups of two from now on, alright?" he says after a pause, looking at me.

I shrug my shoulders.

"Guess that's okay," Niall hums and the rest of us nod our heads in agreement.

"Great," Louis rolls his eyes again before he turns to me, "And you think about that politics thing, Liam. It might just work, mate."

"We'll see," I huff, but I've already made up my mind. I'm not made for it.

"So, now that that's off the table," Louis sighs, turning towards Harry, "Do you wanna go to bed now, Haz?" Louis says, smiling at him.

"Yeah, sure," the curly boy smiles back at him.

"Alright," Louis says and gets up, putting his hand on the small of Harry's back to help him over the log that they were sitting on. "See ya, lads," he turns around to wave at us before he walks off with our prisoner.

I look at Zayn with a raised eyebrow, just to see that he is looking back at me with the exact same expression on his face. Louis is definitely acting strange, lately.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Louis' POV**

Waking up this morning is like diving into a lake headfirst, finding that the surface is made of concrete instead of water.

I open my eyes to find a green pair of eyes and a full set of perfectly white teeth only inches away from my face which makes me jump as high as I manage in my still practically sleeping state. "Woa," is the first thing that escapes my mouth before I settle my head back down on my pillow.

Harry seems to have pushed his mattress right next to mine and his smiling face is now right up in front of me. He would only have to lean down the tiniest bit to make our lips touch. As the thought crosses my mind, my eyes flicker down to his lips momentarily, but he doesn't make a move. Of course he doesn't, he's not into guys.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Harry exclaims, smiling broadly.

I let out an exhausted groan as my heart rate calms down again after the initial shock, a moment ago. I'm still so tired, what is even going on?

Harry still looks into my eyes with a smile, not looking tired at all. "Did you know that my first word was ‘cat’?"

Alright, this clearly is nothing urgent, no emergency. I close my eyes again, trying to relax. "Uh-huh," is all I can manage to get out.

"You _did_?" Harry says in amazement. Why is he shouting at me? Let a man have his peace!

"Err... no Harry, not really," I mumble, my eyes still shut.

"Oh," Harry says, and only continues when I open my eyes in confusion, "Well, we always had cats. That's probably why it was my first word. They were always just around. That's probably how I caught the word so early on in my life."

I yawn noisily.

It doesn't seem to faze him. "I really like cats," he smiles, "They're cute and cuddly. That's three words beginning with a 'c'."

I roll my eyes internally. "Clever," I grumble.

"Oh yes, 'clever'. That's four!" Harry cheers.

I sigh and shake my head. What even is this morning?

"I think I'm a cat person if you will," the curly-haired nightmare continues.

"I like dogs better," I toss in randomly.

At that, Harry's smile drops off his face. "Really?" he frowns, "Bummer. I’d hoped we would match."

When I don't react, he pushes his lower lip into an adorable pout, mocking disappointment, before he beams at me again.

I rub my eyes with the backsides of my hands, sitting up slightly and sighing once more. "And you're also a morning person, huh?" I mumble, my voice still laced with sleep. It's kind of embarrassing.

Harry only keeps on staring at me with that stupid grin of his.

I nod my head, slowly turning away. "Thought so. Well, I am not. So goodnight," I say as I lay back down, closing my eyes.

For a minute, it is quiet in my room and as I gradually drift off to sleep again, I almost forget that the past 5 minutes had even happened.

"You look like a kitten when you're sleeping," I hear Harry's voice coming from right next to me.

"Excuse me?" I squeal in outrage and finally sit up straight. I'm not getting any more sleep today.

Harry only shrugs with a smile, also sitting up to match my position. "You do. You look cute and cuddly, just like a cat. That's why I started talking about cats, you know. You reminded me of my cat Dusty when I watched you sleep."

"You watched me _sleep_?" I burst out in disbelieve.

Harry's eyes blow wide immediately. "No I didn't," he denies quickly.

"Yes you did," I counter in mock outrage, staring at him with parted lips.

"No, I swear! I woke up the second before you did," he says, sounding somewhat panicky.

I glare at him. "Oh, and in that second you managed to move the mattress all the way over here," I point to his mattress that’s right next to mine, "shove your much too happy face right up in front of mine," I purposefully point to my own face, " _and realize that I look like a fucking_ _kitten_?" I almost shout the last word, trying to keep myself from laughing.

A slight blush creeps up Harry's neck as he stares at me. "Maybe..." he mumbles, his voice sounding small.

I smile at him fondly. "Maybe, huh?" I hum knowingly.

"I certainly didn't stare at you for long," he whispers, "That would just be weird."

"And creepy," I add in amusement.

"Yeah, creepy..." Harry repeats, looking down.

Oh great. Well done Tommo, you just killed his spirit. Yes, it was annoying as hell, but now his smile is gone.

I pluck up my courage and put my hand on his thigh, hoping he doesn't pull away too quickly. When he doesn't react, I raise my other hand to touch his chin and tilt his head up to make him look at me. "Hey, even if you’d have watched me for an hour," I start softly, but pull my hand back as soon as our eyes have locked, "I wouldn't mind. I get it, I'm pretty darn beautiful," I joke, winking at Harry which earns me a smile, "And for the record, I like creepy. It kinda gets me going."

That draws a chuckle from Harry's lips and I pull back my second hand, too.

"But just so we're even," I say, "next time, I'll watch you while you're sleeping, deal?"

"You might not wanna do that," Harry warns me, "You'll fall in love."

I look at him taken aback. Does he know about me? Why isn't he freaked out if he knows? But how would he even know? I need to chill.

Oblivious to my worries, Harry gets up and moves his mattress back to its original spot. I stare at it with a frown until I realize my disappointment and shake it off quickly.

While Harry makes his bed, I walk over to the chest on the other side of the room to retrieve a set of fresh clothes, black jeans, and a grey hoody. Out of pure kindness, I gave Harry half of the box for his clothes (my half looks like a war zone compared to his). While I am there, I toss him some of his clothes, picking a plain white t-shirt that I quite like.

"Thanks," Harry smiles but puts them down on his bed to proceed with my beddings.

"Don't bother," I tell him, "I'll mess it up again tonight, either way."

I pull on my jeans and take off the shirt that I was sleeping in, mindlessly tossing it to the ground.

"That's alright, I don't mind doing it," Harry says and turns around to face me again. His eyes slowly travel over my torso and arms. "You've got quite some tats," he mumbles absentmindedly, pulls his gaze away, and slips into his shirt. He sleeps in only his boxers, like he said he would.

I shrug. "You do, too," I say and pull the hoody over my head.

"Yeah, and they've cost me quite a bit," Harry says, groaning while he worms himself into his jeans.

I sit down on top of the chest, waiting for Harry and trying not to admire his toned thighs too much which unfortunately doesn't work.

"Oh, are you wondering how I paid for them?" I catch on, "Easy, I didn't. We have a friend with equipment and there's that one tattoo parlor by the station. We know the owner."

"The train station? I know that place," Harry says excitedly, "I got some of my tattoos from there."

"Cool," I smile, "I bet you had to pay though, am I right?" I say smugly.

"Yeah," Harry shrugs and then pouts, "Even though that's kind of unfair. Why don't you have to pay? I've been there a few times, too."

"Well, I don't think it hurts your wallet all that much," I laugh, "And besides, we go there more than a few times. We give him info, he gives us tats."

"Info?" Harry frowns, zipping up his pants.

"Inspections," I reply, "He's not exactly legal. We tell him when the police is planning their next check-ups."

"He's not legal?" Harry repeats in bewilderment and checks his left arm as if he'd find his skin peeling off or something.

"Yeah, now come on, let's get something to eat," I say, rolling my eyes, and grab his outstretched arm as I pass him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know, I'm kind of scared about my skin now," Harry says as he walks next to me through the cave tunnels, still examining his arm.

"It looks fine to me," I reply in a lazy tone, "Try waking up to the fear of being kissed by a dude. That’s scary."

"What?" Harry stops short, finally averting his eyes from his arm.

"I- um, nothing," I splutter, panicking slightly. I didn't plan on telling him!

"Did you wake up with that fear for a specific reason or is that just a thing that you do?" Harry jokes.

"God no! It happened for a reason of course," I answer a little horrified.

"Tell me," Harry smiles, looking at me sideways. Something tells me he finds this amusing.

"I-I'd rather not," I mumble.

"Since when are you so shy?" he chuckles lightly.

"I'm not shy," I defend myself.

"Then talk," Harry challenges me.

"I don't want to," I say stubbornly.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about," Harry continues, "I won't tell."

I don't reply.

"Who was it?" Harry smirks.

"Drop it, Harold."

"Come on, tell me," Harry laughs, "Was it Niall? He seems like he's not too fuzzy about private space."

"What?! No way, now shut up," I hiss.

"Or Liam?" Harry continues, chuckling, "Oh no! It was Carlos, right? That's what all the tension between the two of you is about."

"It was you, okay?" I groan in annoyance.

That makes Harry finally shut up.

"It was you. This morning," I tell him, "You were super close and your lips were wet, and you kinda freaked me out."

"Oh, I didn't realize," Harry mumbles pensively. Then he catches onto something I said, "My lips were wet?" He looks at me quizzically until the corner of his lips pulls up into a smirk.

Shit. "I might have looked at them," I mumble.

At that, Harry's smirk grows bigger. I don't think he realizes it when he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, making it look wet again.

"They were right in front of my face," I choke out, finding myself staring at them again, "how could I have not looked?"

Harry leans over to me, still smirking mischievously and almost whispering, "I get it, Lou, I'm pretty darn beautiful, too."

I feel my heart starting to race again, just like that day by the lake. Does he realize what he is doing to me? This is total shit, I can't let him make me feel this way. This cannot happen. Have I learned nothing, all those years ago?

"Morning, Louis," I hear a girl's voice next to me.

I stop to turn to her. It's Kim. Instead of looking at me, her eyes are trained on Harry, and it's obvious that she is admiring him.

I realize that we were just passing the kitchen where some girls are cleaning the dishes.

"Kim," I try to wake the girl from her daze, "You're drooling."

"So," she flicks her eyes back to me, "He's hot, I'm allowed to drool." She was never one to keep her thoughts to herself.

"He's standing right there," I say, gesturing to Harry, "Have some decency."

"Oh, I don't mind," Harry smirks, looking at the blue-haired girl.

"See," Kim says as she shamelessly starts eying Harry again with a smile.

"We're leaving," I growl at Harry but he is still smirking at Kim.

"You're too late," Kim says, before I can turn away from her. "It's almost noon, we've finished breakfast." Before she even finishes the sentence, her eyes travel back over to Harry. "Do you want me to make you guys something?"

Harry smiles back charmingly.

"We can manage without you, smurf," I frown. None of the two are even looking at me.

Kim's eyes find mine again, and they look fierce. "I might be a smurf but at least I'm not an angry dwarf like you," she replies in a snippy tone, turns on her heels, and walks back into the kitchen.

I look up into Harry's amused eyes in anger. "She sleeps around with everyone," I tell him, not even exaggerating too much, "She's no girlfriend material."

"What makes you think I'm looking for a girlfriend," Harry winks at me, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I can only stare at him in disbelieve. What does he think he is doing? When I finally break eye contact, I push past him and make my way over to the kitchen, knowing that he will follow me. I get us both a coffee and some cereal, and sit down at the tiny table without looking at Harry once. Sure enough, he sits down across from me and starts eating his breakfast. When I can't resist to look at him anymore, I find him still smiling at me. His eyes shine in amusement and his smile spreads over his entire face. He is absolutely enjoying my annoyance. But even though his mouth is full of cheerios which makes his cheeks look like those of a chewing hamster, his smile looks extremely handsome.

Before I know it, I feel the bubble of anger in my chest vanish and a smile forming on my own lips. As if on cue, the both of us start laughing. I have no idea about what but it doesn't matter. It feels good.

"So, Harry," Kim appears at the table and sits down between us. I roll my eyes in annoyance.

"I haven't thanked you yet for helping with the dishes the other day," she chirps.

"No problem," Harry smiles politely.

"No, honestly, thanks," Kim insists, "We need more men like you around here."

"Oh come on, smurf, all you care about is some fresh meat to bury inside you," I scoff.

Kim turns around and narrows her eyes at me. "As far as I'm concerned your meat couldn't get any fresher but I still wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole," she snaps.

"That so?" I snort unimpressed, "Is that why you used to watch me while I was taking my showers in our last camp with the tree houses and why you took my used shirts when you thought I didn't notice, so you could wear them at night."

"I never did that," Kim denies but the color of her face betrays her.

"You were a literal stalker, Kim," I say triumphantly.

"Well... I-I," she seems at a loss for words, but like always, not for long, "At least I'm not a fucking virgin at 22," she screams.

I only smile at her. It's hard to hit a target when there isn't one in the first place. She thinks I'm still a virgin because I never slept with a _girl_. Little does she know that girls are simply missing some bits and pieces for me to drop my pants.

"At least I'm not shagging everything and anything that's moving just because the guy she really wants isn't interested," I grin.

"I'm not sha-"

"Just shut up and leave,” I interrupt her, “Oh, and while you’re at it, I think I’ve lost one of my blue shirts. Have you by any chance seen it somewhere, lately? Maybe underneath your pillow?"

At that, the smurf purses her lips, gets up, and leaves the kitchen without another glance at Harry. Mission accomplished.

I look at Harry who is still sitting across from me. His body is shaking from silent laughter and there is spilled milk all around his bowl.

"What are you doing to me?" he giggles, "I really shouldn't be laughing. That wasn't nice."

"That's the Tommo charm, Harold," I wink at him, „Get used to it."


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Harry's POV**

I shouldn't have laughed. I really shouldn't have. But when Louis gets like this, loud and witty, I just can't help it. I don't even know where he gets his jokes from.

Kim left the kitchen a while ago and the rest of the girls disappeared at some point while I tried to stop laughing. Louis and I are alone in the kitchen now and I am watching him eat his breakfast.

"So," Louis hums without looking at me, his eyes are glued to the cereals on his spoon, "why'd you push you're mattress away from mine again?"

"Um, what?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"What?" Louis says loudly, looking up into my eyes as if he didn't know what I was talking about.

"The question you just asked me?" I unnecessarily tell him.

"Uh yeah, doesn't matter. Just forget about it, was silly," Louis backtracks again.

I look at him a bit concerned. "What's the matter Louis?" I wonder. He's been so much more open with me lately. And what I really don't get is that at the most random times, he starts closing off again. I never know when to expect these moments. He's bubbly and loud one second and then pretends not to care or even gets aggressive the next. What am I missing here?

"I didn't want to be intrusive," I say to him when he doesn't react, "That's why I pushed the mattress back to its original spot. You put it there yourself. I thought you wanted it there."

"I did, yeah," Louis mumbles.

"There you go," I smile. When he doesn't smile back, I get a heavy feeling in my chest and I carefully push my bowl to the side. "Lou," I say quietly, "Do you remember telling me how I didn't have to get all flustered when it came to you? That I didn't have to try to say the right things when I was talking to you?"

Louis looks back at me, somewhat stunned. "Yes, of course I remember," he says, putting his cup down on the table.

I smile about his choice of words. "Good, and in return, you don't have to get like that either. You don't ever have to think about what you are saying when you talk to me. You can always say whatever you want without a filter. I won't judge you, I promise," I tell him honestly.

"What makes you think I do that?" he shrugs.

I give him a look.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Louis raises his hands in surrender, then he looks at me sternly, "Thanks, man." He looks at me for a moment longer as if he wanted to say something else but then he gets up instead, dumping his dishes in the sink. "I'm afraid you'll have to spend your morning with me, mate," he says, grinning at me mischievously, "No other captain's around. So sorry about that."

I can't help but chuckle, "I think I'll live," I say, also getting up from the table, "What are we doing today?"

"Well most mornings I start with checking if we need anything, you know," he smirks, "from the shops. So I guess we'll start with that."

After checking in the kitchen, our first stop is with Zayn's girlfriend Perrie. We find her outside the cave, chatting with some other girls and watching over Linda, a baby boy, and a handful of other children. The weather is beautiful, the sun is shining, and it is quite warm. Summer is going to be here soon.

"Oh look who's finally heaved their lazy bottoms out of bed," Perrie jokes when she sees us approaching.

"Don't be jealous Perrie, you know I don't have a dozen tiny human alarm clocks waking me up every morning," Louis mocks jokingly, "I don't know how Zayn can even stand sleeping in the same room as you, with Linda jumping on top of you at the arse crack of dawn every morning."

"Maybe I'll send her to you, tomorrow," she says sweetly, adding, "And Zayn is very happy sleeping in the same room as I, thank you very much."

"Oh, I'll take your word for it, Pez," one of the other girls winks.

The others giggle. "Does he ever need to lie on his stomach until Linda is gone, because he wakes up with a little problem?" a second girl asks, smirking.

"Or a big one," the first laughs.

Louis groans next to me. "Alright, we really need to leave this place, Harry. I don’t need to hear this," he says to me and rolls his eyes.

"His 'problem' is none of your guys' business," Perrie hisses at the other girls, annoyance clear in her voice, "And besides, most mornings, he sleeps through it when Linda comes into our room."

Then she turns to Louis. "What do you want?"

"Do you need us to get something for them?" he asks, nodding his head towards the kids.

"Nah," she shakes her head no, "We're okay. But Linda mentioned Harry the whole morning," she turns to me with a smile, "Guess you left quite the impression on her."

I feel the corners of my lips curl up into a smile as I look over to Linda. A slightly older kid is giving her a piggy-back ride and she doesn't even notice that we are here. "She's a sweet girl," I say to Perrie.

"Well, maybe you wanna look after her again, sometime," she smiles, "It would be a great relief for us girls. She can be quite exhausting."

"Edwards," Louis warns her, "Stop blabbering, he doesn't have to if he doesn't want to."

"I'd love to spend some time with her," I ignore Louis and smile at Perrie.

When I look over to Louis, I can see the annoyance in his eyes. "But not today," I tell him quietly, "I'm staying with you today, remember?"

Louis turns his eyes to me, still a bit irritated. "And I'm also going to be there when you watch her," he decides and when I smile happily, I can see that he tries hard to keep up his annoyed front. "Can we go now?" he grumbles.

"Yeah, get lost, boys. You're shading our tanning spot," Perrie jokes.

"Oh, Louis," she remembers when Louis starts to turn away, "Do you know why Kim just ran past us and into the woods without a word? She looked upset?"

Oh, she did? Now I feel even worse for laughing than I did before.

"Huh?" Louis says, frowning, "No idea. Probably that time of the month, I guess," he says defensively. Without another word, he turns around and walks back to the cave entry.

I wave at Perrie politely and follow him. With only a few quick steps, I am beside him again. He's still not very fast. He walks without his crutch most of the time now, but he is still limping a bit.

 "Do you think Kim will be okay?" I ask hesitantly when we enter the cave.

"Why wouldn't she be?" Louis still sounds defiant.

"Look," I begin carefully, "I don't know your history with her but you said some mean things to her."

Louis doesn't look at me. "Well, she wasn't awfully nice either," he huffs.

I nod in agreement. She really wasn’t nice to him either. There's got to be some history between them.

"And I only said the truth," Louis says after a pause and a tiny smirk appears on his lips, "I didn't bad-mouth her for no reason."

Suddenly I can feel some curiosity sparking inside my chest, I don't know why but somehow I become weirdly attentive.

"What about her?" I ask him and try to sound casual, "Did she say the truth when she tried to insult you?"

Louis narrows his eyes at me in suspicion. "What are you talking about?" he asks.

"Uh, just generally," I lie.

"Spit it out, kid," Louis demands with a weird gesture of his hands.

When I feel my cheeks heating up slightly, I want to slap myself but instead, I just pray that he doesn't see it. "Um, just... I was just wondering if it was true what she said about you still being, uh... a virgin?!" I say hesitantly and I don't even know myself whether this was a question or a statement.

Louis laughs at that in amusement, though all he answers is, "That's what _she_ thinks, yeah."

"Oh, uh, okay," I say. Could his answer have been any vaguer?

"Louis," I hear Evan call from the camp fire that we are just passing. He gets up and walks over to us.

"Where've you been all morning?" he wonders, looking a bit lost, "I didn't know what to do for hours now and I'm bored."

"Didn't I tell you to follow Carlos' orders if you don't know what to do," Louis reminds him, his voice sounding rather gentle.

"He has left with Liam and Niall this morning, I didn't wanna go with him," Evan replies.

Louis sighs, but he seems surprisingly patient. I feel like he has a soft spot for the kid. "Why don't you come with us?" he offers, "We're on our way to the storage halls."

Excitement instantly spreads over Evans face. "Yeah, cool," he smiles.

Louis gives him a soft pad on the back and leads the boy away from the fire, but not without looking at me to make sure I come along.

It's weird how Evan is almost a head taller than Louis, even taller than I, but Louis is clearly the protector of the two. Seeing him like that makes me admire him even more than I already do.

"Tell you what, if Zayn's not back there in the storage halls and I find him still in his bed, I'm going to dump a bucket of ice water on his lazy ass," Louis says joyfully.

"Oh, Zayn's not here anymore," Evan informs Louis, "he's gone into town to paint something he's been working on."

Louis frowns at that. "Wait, did he leave with Peter?" Louis says distractedly.

"Uh-no, Peter's still somewhere around. Zayn left alone."

"You're joking," Louis says, stopping dead in his tracks.

The tall boy shakes his head. "No, he left about three hours ago, I told you I've been bored for hours," Evan frowns.

Louis turns his head to look at me in annoyance. I look back blankly, but slightly worried.

"Why doesn't he ever stick to what we've agreed on?" Louis huffs.

I only shrug, feeling lost. Is it so bad that he went to the city alone? I know they agreed on it last night, but still.

"Ugh, Perrie will freak," Louis rolls his eyes. It's clear that he is less worried and more pissed. "Okay, let's just not tell her," he decides, "We'll go and fetch that fool off the streets. Evan, you'll come with us, we need someone to take a look after the car."

When I look at Evan because he doesn't reply instantly, I can see the hesitation in his eyes. He obviously doesn't like the city. I don't really know what's so bad about the city, though. I live in the city.

Wait, I live in the city. And Louis wants me to come along. Into the city. No.

"Bu-but what about the cave," I hear Evan say shyly, "we can't leave the girls and kids alone here."

Louis gives him a look, "Pal, how often have we been attacked since we've moved here?"

"Yeah, but I thought... just in case?" Evan says, his voice losing more and more strength with each word.

Louis shakes his head. "Don't be a-"

"Louis!" I interrupt him before he can insult the boy out of indiscretion, "How about we take Perrie with us. She could watch the car."

"Perrie?" Louis turns to me in confusion, "But she's a girl."

"So?"

"She's in charge of all the girls."

"They can probably manage without her for a bit."

"But Perrie's supposed to look after the kids," Louis says.

"Evan could look after them for a while," I suggest.

"Evan?" he repeats unconvinced. "I don't know."

"He could do it," I shrug.

"I could do it, Louis," Evan assures him with a proud smile.

"This is weird," Louis wavers but can't help a smile forming on his lips, too. How does Evan manage to be so innocent at the age of 16?

"If you think about it, it's really not," I say in amusement, "And I bet Perrie would be glad to come along."

Louis stares at me for a moment. "A'ight," he says then and turns to Evan, "Show me what you can do, mate."

I smile at the relieved looking kid while we walk back to Perrie, but it starts to fade quickly. I can't believe that I've been held here for almost two weeks and now Louis takes me to the city just like that. In the beginning I didn't even think they'd ever let me take off that blindfold. I thought I'd have to rot in that tiny cage. And now I'm joining Louis on a trip to the city in the middle of the day? I'm not sure if this makes me happy or not.

When we reach the girls outside the cave, Perrie looks at us with a puzzled expression.

"Perrie, you're coming with us," Louis pronounces, "We're driving into the city, we need to find Zayn."

"What? What's going on?" Perrie replies with a baffled expression.

"Okay, don't freak out," Louis warns her, "This is probably nothing, don't worry. But Zayn's gone to the city alone."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Perrie shrieks and gets up immediately.

"Chill, I said 'don't freak out', remember?" Louis rolls his eyes, "We'll go get him, but we need you to stay with the car. Evan will take your place in the meantime."

"Evan?" Perrie scoffs, looking at the teenage boy.

"Yes, try and be a little more open-minded, would you," Louis says with a side-glance to me which makes me chuckle. "Just move your feet and get in the car."

"Why must it always be Zayn of all people?" Perrie groans while we walk away from the group of girls and Evan, "He's so reckless, it's always _him_ that gets in trouble."

"He's not in trouble, Perrie," Louis tries to reassure her.

She snorts at that. "Have you met Zayn?" she laughs bitterly, "You're talking like you don't know him. He always finds trouble, trouble finds _him_."

We reach a sheltered spot next to the cave wall. A black truck is parked in the concealment of some thick vegetation. This is where they must be hiding the cars. This is actually really good to know.

Walking to the car makes me realize that I hate going to the city. It really sucks that Louis is taking me there just like that. I'm going to be in the city, walking around the streets, but not being able to go see my family. I know he's going to make sure I won't be able to run away, I know it. He's been so careful in the first few days, there's no way he'll let me walk free. So there's no way for me to escape him now.

On the other hand, I might just need to keep my eyes open. Maybe I can find a way...

I'll have to count on that. I miss my family so much. And the worst thing is that they don't know that I am fine. They worry about me, probably picture me beaten to a pulp, being starved and humiliated every day. I wish I could simply tell them that I am okay and they'll just have to be patient.

"Harry? Harry?!" Louis waves his hand in front of my face. "Do you want to sit next to me? In the front?"

All I can care to do is nod weakly while my thoughts are still halfway with my family.

When we get into the car, Perrie climbs onto the back seat without any complaints, but she darts some curious glances at us. Soon enough, Louis starts the engine and drives the car through a thick arrangement of bushes to pull it onto a bumpy pathway. I watch the trees pass us, so fast that they appear blurry in front of my eyes, and rest my head against the cool window next to me. I can hear Louis and Perrie talk intently, but I don't listen to them. Somehow I just feel exhausted from the past week, all of a sudden.

When we have left the forest behind us and I can see the outskirts of town in the distance, I feel Louis' knuckles grazing my outer thigh lightly and I look up. I realize that Perrie and Louis have stopped talking long ago, without me noticing it. Perrie is leaning against her window herself and Louis is looking back and forth between me and the road with a worried expression on his face.

"Why are you so quiet?" he asks me in a low voice, still touching his knuckles against my thigh.

I'm not sure how to answer. He's smart, he must know how I feel right now.

When I only look back at him without answering, his facial expression turns from worried to sad as he catches on. "Hey, it's going to be okay," he whispers under his breath, "You're going to be fine. Don't worry, you'll be fine." He genuinely sounds regretful.

I can still only look back at him without saying a word. I wouldn't know what to say.

With sad eyes, Louis pulls his hand back and grips it to the wheel, mumbling barely audible, "I'm sorry, Hazza."


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Louis' POV**

"So you stay here Perrie, alright?" I turn around to look at the blonde girl after I parked the car in a less busy street.

It's one of the worst parts of the city but Zayn and I come here a lot because it also is a popular place for the graffiti scene. Zayn has done some of the most amazing works around town. Most spray-painted stuff is just ugly bullshit, but Zayn's stuff is actually amazing.

That's why I think our best shot of finding him is in this part of the city. If he is spray-painting like Evan said, he is probably around here. But while Zayn and I are used to this part of the city, I am kind of worried about leaving Perrie alone by the car. What was I thinking?

"How long are you guys going to be gone?" she asks with a side-glance at a group of filthy looking men passing the car.

"We'll just be a minute," I assure her, "Just down this road and around the corner."

"What if he's not there?" she wonders.

"Then we'll drive around town a little more," I reply, "but I won't drive the car any further into this slum. The Grey Skins live here and I don't need to provoke them by 'entering their territory'," I air-quote. While the Creepers are basically a joke and only strong by number, the Grey Skins are a serious concern. They like to lay low, just like we do, but they are vicious and cunning. And they also have a weirdly good rapport with the cops. I really don't need to cross them if I don't have to.

"Fine, but don't leave me waiting here for hours," Perrie says in a tone as if I had already done just that.

Then her eyes catch on Harry who is sitting next to me, looking out of the front window with the same blank expression that he has worn ever since we reached the car. "What if someone recognizes Harry?" she says.

"Around here?" I shrug, "I don't think people watch the news around here."

"But he is special, Louis," Perrie insists, "he's not just some abducted kid, he's got money. This has even gone around the other gangs. They know him because they want him, too."

She's right. People will know him one way or the other. "They're not going to get him," I says sternly, looking at the boy next to me. I feel my pulse increasing at the thought of it. But I'm not scared to lose our hostage. I'm scared for Harry and what might happen to him if some other gang would take him. "I'll make sure that he's save. He's save when he is with us."

"So you're just going to walk around town with him?" she questions.

I shrug because I don't know what to say.

Perrie looks at me and Harry for a moment. "What if you guys just swap shirts?" she suggests.

I furrow my eyebrows at her and Harry finally turns around to look at her, too. Does she want us to give her a show or something?

"You're wearing a hoodie, Louis," Perrie rolls her eyes, "That would give him at least a bit more concealment than that t-shirt. It should do for the few minutes that you'll be gone."

I give Harry an uncertain look until he nods his head in agreement and pulls his shirt over his head. I just stare at him in surprise, mainly at his chest though. I can feel my cheeks heat up when I realize that Perrie is watching us closely.

"So?" Harry says and holds his shirt out to me, "Will you give me your hoodie or do you want me to run around the streets like this?" he smiles, gesturing at his bare torso, "That certainly won't draw attention at all."

I find myself shaking my head and starting to pull the hoodie off. "I don't know if you'll fit into it, though," I mumble, "I'm not really tall."

"Oh shush," Perrie rolls her eyes, "It's at least two sizes too big on you anyways, he'll fit just fine."

Harry only smiles at me with kind eyes.

We exchange shirts and I slip the one Harry gives me over my head. Immediately, I am surrounded by his scent. In combination with the warmth of his skin that is still lingering on the fabric, it feels incredible.

Harry pulls on my hoodie, and to my surprise it does fit him. It doesn't sit as loose as it does on me and his hands don't get lost in the sleeves like mine do when I wear it, but it fits him just fine, like Perrie said.

"Damn, you can still see his curls peeking out of the hood," I groan.

"Here, take my hair tie," Perrie says without hesitation and pulls her hair tie out of her pony tail to give it to Harry.

"Great," I say when Harry is done tugging his curls away, feeling a bit impatient, "Now, Harry... you know I can't let you escape..."

I see his face fall and immediately feel bad. He knows what will follow.

"Harry," I start again. "Haz," I repeat under my breath, "I'm sorry. You know I have to." I look at him apologetically and hope that he will show some kind of reaction. But he only stares back at me with a frown that looks much too angry for my liking.

So I lean over his lap to open the glove box next to Harry's knees. Without looking at Harry once again, I retrieve an old rope out of it and make Harry turn his back to me so I can tie his hands together behind his back. I try to do it as quickly as I can because I honestly hate this moment and I want it to be over as soon as possible. Harry endures it without any restraints, but that makes the whole situation even more horrible.

"Why can't he just stay in the car with me?" Perrie asks as she watches us.

"Because he can't, Perrie," I say, my voice sounding almost harsh.

"It would be easier," she says.

"But he's coming with me. I want him with me, is that so hard to understand?" I frown and rub my thumbs over Harry's wrists reassuringly when I finished tying them. But I honestly don't think it makes him feel any better.

"You take my seat, yeah, Perrie?" I tell the girl in a much more neutral voice, "Just climb over as soon as we're out... And lock the car from the inside."

She only nods her head when I look at her.

"Oh, and put your scarf over your head," it comes to my mind, "Your blonde hair might attract some unwanted attention. There are some disgusting pigs running around here."

"Don't worry," she laughs, "Just get Zayn back fast and I'll be fine."

"Alright," I nod my head and look at Harry who looks back at me with an unreadable expression, "let's go, yeah?"

We get out of the car (I need to help Harry for obvious reasons) and Perrie locks the doors behind us.

When I go to tie one end of the rope to one of my own hands, I check Harry's tied hands and am relieved to see that it looks like he simply has them rested on his lower back. He does that a lot which makes it look all the more natural.

We start walking down the street, neither of us talking. Because I feel untypically guilty and Harry is probably mad at me. I don't blame him.

The realization that there are people passing by but nobody seems to notice the rope relaxes me a little. I just couldn't imagine what would happen if someone called the police and took Harry away from me- us.

But that won't happen. I'm sure we'll find Zayn any minute now.

Harry walks beside me with a concentrated expression and I wonder what's on his mind but I don't dare ask. It must feel horrible to be in his position right now.

Zayn is nowhere to be found. There are some sprayers around but they all look unfamiliar.

"Where is that idiot?" I mumble to myself, "This was a stupid idea..."

"What was?" Harry says, looking at me for the first time since getting out of the car. I didn't even realize he heard me.

I sigh. "To take you here," I reply, "I should've just left you at the cave."

"Why didn't you?" he asks in a much too neutral tone.

I look at him, unsure whether to be honest or not. "I was being selfish, I guess. Damn selfish," I confess, "I feel better if you're with me because I know where you are and don't have to worry."

"Worry about?"

"You,” I say without thinking, so I add, “escaping," I say, feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

Harry seems to buy it, though. He nods his head in realization and disappointment. To my surprise that doesn’t make me feel relieved. It only makes me feel even guiltier, so I decide to open up a tiny bit. "I can see that you hate me for bringing you here and it must feel horrible to walk around the city, being... well, like this..." I sigh again, this time in resignation, "but I just like having you around. It makes me feel better. I honestly don't even know why."

"Neither do I," he hums without looking at me.

"I'm really sorry, Harry. I won't make this mistake again," I promise.

Zayn is nowhere to be seen on this street so we turn left, into a smaller alley with even less people. Nothing much is going on here but there is a huge bridge with a basketball court below it. All the concrete pillars of the bridge are full of graffiti and I've been here with Zayn several times. That's why I think he might be there.

"Can you hear that?" Harry says to me as we get closer to the basketball court.

"What?" I reply and try to listen. There are no people around. The court looks empty but there are a few voices. They sound harsh. Nothing special about that around this neighborhood.

"Let's just try to avoid whoever that is," I say to Harry, grabbing his arm and trying to shield him with my body from the place behind the huge pillar that we are about to pass and where the voices are coming from.

Right before we walk past the pillar and get into the view of the people on the court, I hear a familiar laugh and someone yelling, "You sure about that, paki?" It's Fletchers voice. Of course it is, great.

"Wait," I murmur to Harry and pull him closer to the pillar of the bridge. "I think that's Fletcher and his rotten pack of Creepers," I tell him, "And wanna bet that it's Zayn they're talking to?"

I gesture Harry to be quiet and peek around the edge of the pillar. Sure enough, I can see Fletcher and a handful of other Creepers, circling Zayn who is surrounded by several spray cans. On the pillar behind him, he has already started to paint a huge tiger that is angrily running towards the viewer. To my horror there is a guy standing behind Zayn, holding a knife against his neck.

"Shit, what a fucking idiot you are, Malik," I curse under my breath. Harry takes a step to stand behind me and peeks around the corner, too.

"You think you can fool me, twat?" Fletcher scoffs, shoving his fat hands into his pockets, "I knew it was you who painted Burke's shop window, the second I saw it. Who else would that freak hire than his scribbling, ugly lover boy? Did he eat you out as payment that night? We all know you Sparrows love a good rim job."

While the others laugh at Fletcher's boring excuse of an insult, I can see Zayn's neck veins becoming more prominent like they do when he gets pissed. He's going to say something stupid any minute now. I know it.

"We need to do something, Louis," Harry whispers in my ear, "Why aren't we doing anything?" To my surprise he honestly sounds worried about Zayn. Does he care about us enough to give a shit about what happens to us?

"I know," I mutter with a frown, "But if they see me, they'll take Zayn as leverage against me for sure."

Harry groans next to me in annoyance.

"And now that I see this child's drawing of yours," I hear Fletcher say as he points to the tiger behind Zayn, "I'm certain that only you could've smeared on his window like that."

"I'm so insulted," Zayn snorts, "Since you know so much about art, dip shit. Oh no, I just go confused.. you must know all about the rimming that you were talking about before, right? You smell like you've been in hell's arsehole with your entire body."

"You little fucker, don't ever talk to my boss like that," Fletcher's little puppy dog Pickles yells. My heart skips a beat when I see him pulling out a gun and pointing it directly at Zayn's head.

"Fuck," I curse and look at Harry feeling utterly helpless.

He looks back at me with his green eyes, touching his hand to my shoulder and using his thumb to reassuringly draw circles on my skin.

"Holy shit, Pick," Fletcher's eyes look like they're about to fall out of their sockets, "Where have you got _that_ from?"

So the Creepers are not used to owning guns. Shocker.

"I nicked it from a cop when they released us from the police station," he replies, blushing furiously.

"Look at that," Fletcher hollers, turning to Zayn, "didn't think that moron was good for anything, huh? Me neither. Well done, pinhead."

Next to him, Pickles' face turns even darker at his boss' words.

"Now let's see," he continues, "why don't we take this opportunity to find out where your hideout is. Your gang has been left alone for way too long now, and my people are starting to feel antsy. They know that you have quite a lot of girls in your gang. Beautiful girls."

"What do you want, Fletcher?" Zayn snarls, visibly tensing up.

"Tell us where you guys have been hiding for the past year," Fletcher smirks.

Zayn laughs but there is no joy in his tone. "Go to hell," he says angrily.

"I'll make this easy on you," Fletcher rolls his eyes, "You can decide. My people either give you a personal lift back to your home or Pickles is gonna pull that trigger."

My heart races, I don't know what to do. Everything that I can think of would only make the situation worse. "Harry," I say under my breath, without really realizing it.

"Of course I can't keep my men from borrowing your girls for a while if they want to," the toad grins nastily, "I heard your precious girlfriend is a blonde? O'Donnell likes them blonde," he nods his head towards the greasy guy pressing the knife against Zayn's neck. O'Donnell smirks at the thought.

Zayn yells out and starts squirming in the guys' arms. "Fucking bastard," he spits and I punch the pillar next to me in anger. Fletcher's eyes flicker over to me and Harry for a second, but he seems to stay unaware of our presence.

"Lou," Harry whispers and takes my now pounding fist in his much bigger hand, "be careful."

"Your decision," Fletcher almost sings. He's having way too much fun.

"Fucking leave my girlfriend out of this," Zayn growls aggressively.

"Oh, I'm not interested in your girlfriend," Fletcher shrugs, "I just wanna see Tomlinson's corpse 6 feet under the ground, or better... at the city dump."

"I'm not telling you anything, fatty," Zayn says in a harsh tone.

"Pickles..." Fletcher says to his lap dog without looking at him.

I can see the gun in Pickles' hands shake even from the distance of about 50 feet.

"You think that loser is going to shoot me?" Zayn scoffs, "He rather looks like he's going to piss himself."

Fletcher looks over to his gang mate, looks back at Zayn's slight smirk and back again to Pickles. "Fine," he clicks his tongue in annoyance, "give me that, moron," he says and yanks the gun away from the shaking boy’s hands to point it back at Zayn, "You know that I _don't_ have a problem using it, now spill."

I know he's going to shoot, he's not a coward like Pickles and doesn't care enough about anything to care about killing someone. He'll love watching Zayn's blood seep out of his body.

But Zayn proves himself to be the loyal man that I know he is. "You're delusional if you think I'm going to tell you anything," he says, suddenly sounding weirdly calm, "Are you really stupid enough to think that I'd hand you my best friend and my girlfriend on a silver platter? At any cost? I'd rather die than give them to you. You're even thicker than I thought you were if that’s what you believe"

"Don't be silly, Malik," Fletcher laughs, "You're not going to give your life for a twink and a cheap whore."

"You little fucker, you take that back!" Zayn yells, lunging forwards. But O'Donnell holds him tight, pressing the knife more firmly against Zayn's throat.

Fletcher laughs wholeheartedly. "Careful Malik, you no longer look like the bad boy you wanna be when you start crying over your sluts like that."

"Go ahead," Zayn yells, furious now, "kill me! Get it over with, I don't care! I'm never going to betray my friends. I'm not part of your lot who only think of themselves. I don't mind dying if I know my friends are save. So, go ahead, shoot me!"

Fletcher doesn't react to that. For a minute he only stands in front of Zayn, pointing the gun at him and frowning in concentration. He seems to be pondering, thinking. But it looks more like hard labor for him.

"Alright," he finally says and cracks his neck loudly, "then I'd like to know how much you would like that friend of yours behind the pillar to be shot instead of you," he smirks and slowly points the gun directly at me.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Louis' POV**

I press my body against the concrete pillar, touching it from head to heals. I find myself holding my breath even though I know it won't make a difference and that he has already noticed us.

"Don't make me come there," Fletcher warns.

I can't show myself. Either I'll be dead or my friends will be in danger. Or both.

"What are we gonna do?" Harry whispers.

"No idea," I admit, groaning internally, "fuck, he wants me dead and Zayn will _not_ let that happen. He'd rather get himself killed."

Harry looks at me in concentration.

"Harry," I say under my breath and hate how vulnerable and helpless I sound, "what can we do?" I repeat his question.

"I'm not waiting any longer," I hear Fletcher say, "3... 2..."

Harry's expression turns into a determined one. "We improvise," he says, looking into my eyes one last time, and before Fletcher can count down to 1, Harry steps past me and into the view of the Creepers.

"No!" I shout-whisper and my hands fly up to my hair, pulling it in frustration. In the movement, I feel something lightly touching my face and my breath hitches when I see what it is; the other end of the rope dangles from my wrist, with no Harry attached.

How? How did he do it? And why didn't I notice a damn thing? Now that I think about it, I distinctly remember Harry using his hands freely ever since we got here. How could I have been so stupid?

"Done pissing your pants in your little hideout, Sparrow?" I can hear Fletcher's voice.

"Yeah, why were you hiding, coward?" Pickles snickers, trying to sound brave again.

"I wasn't hiding," Harry says calmly, "I was just trying to decide what to do."

"Did you, huh?" Fletcher scoffs, "And did you come up with a master plan? Or should we give you another minute?"

I need to make a decision now. But I'm not sure whether Harry just made it easier or harder to decide. I ruffle my hair, feeling stressed, and dare to peek around the corner again.

"I don't see how that could possibly help me now," Harry says in a polite tone, slowly stepping closer to the group with his hands raised in surrender, "but would you please just put the gun away so we can talk?"

Fletcher laughs loudly. "You sound polite, boy," he says in between laughs, without taking the gun down, "what's your name, Sparrow."

 _Please don't answer, Harry,_ I scream at him in my head.

"I'm not... I'm actually not a Sp-"

He doesn't get any further. Thank god that he talks so slow. "His name is Marcel," Zayn steps in quickly.

"Marcel? Weird name," Fletcher grunts, "are you sure you're a Sparrow? You look like somebody rammed their dick up your ass. Even though that would totally make you a Sparrow, now that I think about it. I bet that's the ritual you guys have to do to be accepted into the gang, am I right?"

His friends snicker quietly. I roll my eyes and wish I could snap something at him but he I’m still not sure if it’s clever to make myself noticed.

"I feel like I've seen you before..." Fletcher murmurs to himself, looking at Harry.

I can see the uncertainty in Harry's face. I don't think he will tell him the truth about himself because he is smart enough to know that the Creepers won't help him to get home or treat him kindly. No, they won’t treat him right at all. _I want to treat him right_ , I think. I can't let anything happen to that tall, clumsy, beautiful boy. So I make a quick decision.

"Oi, Fletcher!" I yell over the basketball court and step around the corner of the pillar. "Finally found a toy for the big boys, haven’t you? Be careful not to poke someone’s eye out with it." Obviously I am referring to the gun in his hands.

The fat leader of the Creepers only looks surprised for a second before he averts the weapon to my chest instead of Harry's. And although I should be scared for my life now, all I can feel is relief that the gun isn't pointing at my friends anymore.

"Well well well, just the one that I wanted to see," Fletcher grins.

"Aw, you missed me? Man, you're getting obsessive," I say mockingly, "Well, the feeling's not mutual."

"I guess you've heard me, then. I'm going to kill you," Fletcher grins.

I roll my eyes and position myself between him and Harry, just in case he remembers that he thinks Harry's face looks familiar. "You're leaving no mystery, huh," I roll my eyes.

"Louis, what are you guys doing here?" Zayn says under his breath.

"Trying to keep your sorry ass out of trouble," I turn around to look at him. He's still under O'Donnell's control, the knife against his throat. "And obviously failing," I add.

"Stop chatting, pussies," Fletcher demands, "I'll fucking destroy you, Tomlinson, and after that I'll let my boys take turns on your women one by one. And those two bastards," he motions towards Harry and Zayn, "will get to watch."

Zayn screams and thrashes around again as much as O'Donnell allows him.

I try to stay calm. I feel like kicking in his head for talking about our girls like that but I know Fletcher. He's got a huge mouth but he's too dumb to do any real harm. "Haven't you realized yet, that we won't ever tell you where they are? Your threats are pathetic. Go play in your hole until you've grown up a bit," I say, unfazed.

"Oh, you'll see, Tomlinson. I'll get what I want," Fletcher threatens, "And if I have to cut your friends into pieces to get them to talk, so be it."

"Is that so?" I smirk, knowing better.

"I'll do it!" Fletcher shouts, "You'll see, I'll do it!"

But before I can see him do anything, a police siren turns on right next to us on the street. They must have driven by and seen us by chance. The driver speeds up and pulls the car right onto the basketball court, stopping there with squealing tires.

"Shit, the cops," Pickles screams, stating the obvious.

The first thing I think of is Harry who is still standing behind me. The cops will definitely know his face. I take a few steps back to stand closer to him, just in case. I can't let them take him from me.

I sigh with relief when I see that the two cops who get out of the car, are two of my best friends. Niall and Liam. They leave the car doors open, to hide behind them for protection.

"Put the gun down, Sir!" Liam yells as soon as he has pointed his own gun at Fletcher.

"You put the gun down," Fletcher yells back frantically, the gun still pointed directly at me, "I'll-I'll shoot!" He throws his free hand up to his head, pulling on his hair in desperation. He looks frantic all of a sudden. Not so brave anymore, are we?

"If you shoot, I'll shoot, too," Liam shouts, trying to sound calmer, "And I'll hit my target, I can promise you that."

"Why are you helping them? Why not us?" Fletcher whines, not bothering to sound tough anymore.

"You're the one with the gun, aren't you?" Niall says, pointing his own gun at Fletcher from his side of the car.

"And then there’s the fact that you're ugly," I say without thinking and chuckle before I realize that it might not have been the best moment for a comment like that. I really need to learn how to bite my tongue.

"Fuck you, Tomlinson! I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you!" Fletcher's face turns red in anger as he takes a few steps towards me, clicking the bullet into position.

I can hear Harry whimper behind me. Is he scared for me?

"Put the gun down, Sir," Liam yells in a commanding voice, sounding loud and threatening. But Fletcher doesn't seem to hear him.

"You fucking homo need to be put in your place," he screams at me instead, "You call me ugly? At least I don't look like a little twink. Don’t you realize that you’re tipping everyone off about how much of a disgusting fag you are?"

"Are you're homophobic insults the only thing you can come up with to defend yourself, porky," Zayn shouts angrily, "try being a little more original." He’s had it. I can see it in his face. He’s lost all his patients, by now.

"Nobody asked the Chinese boy," O'Donnell smirks, pressing the knife closer to Zayn's throat. So much that I can see a tiny red line forming where the blade breaks the skin.

Fletcher laughs. "Yeah, Chinese boy," he repeats and I roll my eyes.

"Put the gun down," Liam yells again, "This is your last chance."

I ignore Liam, not being able to have that total loser of a gang leader have the last word. "You're starting to sound like your little lap dog over there, repeating the boring insults of others," I scoff, nodding my head towards Pickles, "I hope you don't start breaking out as bad as he does. They'd have to start calling you Pickles 2. That’s what he is called after, isn’t he? He looks like a fucking pickle."

"Shut your face, bender! I repeat nothing, from no one. I come up with my own stuff. That’s why I am the leader. So watch your mouth! You don't know what I'm capable of!" Fletcher is still screaming, his eyes almost popping out now.

I can't help but laugh at the sight. He looks ridiculous. "Oooh, show me, bad boy," I wink, not buying it.

"I'll fucking show you," he yells while I can't stop laughing.

Suddenly, I feel something heavy slam into my body, knocking me to the ground. Right then, I hear a deafening bang, intensified by the concrete of the bridge. I slam hard onto the ground, barely keeping my head from hitting it, too. I can feel the skin of my palms scraping open at the contact with the concrete floor, but I can't put my mind on that now because I hear shouting and yelling from all sides now. I don't know what is happening, but I realize that the heavy thing that knocked me to the ground is still half lying on top of me. There is a faint whimper next to my ear, and I instantly know who it’s coming from. It's Harry. He pushed me to the ground.

I turn my head to look into his face. His eyebrows are furrowed in pain and he is looking at his upper arm that is still draped over my body protectively. Before I can ask him what’s wrong or look around, I hear another shot being fired and a short "phew" that sounds like the noise that you make when you can finally put something very heavy back to the ground.

After a second of silence, it feels like hell breaks loose right then and there. The screaming becomes louder, people are running around aimlessly.

I turn away from Harry to see what is going on and look over to Fletcher. Only that he's not where he stood just a minute ago. It takes me a moment until I realize that he is lying on the ground, just like Harry and I. The gun lies a few inches next to his unmoving hand. His face is turned directly towards me but instead of the furious stare he had just been pointing at me, his face is now blank. His eyes are wide open, making him look right into my eyes. He’s dead.

I can hear Pickles squeal out in horror. It almost sounds like he is crying in a high-pitched voice. "Noooo! Nooo that cannot be! Nooooo!" His cry almost sound comedic as he drops to his knees next to his boss, clutching onto his own face.

Liam runs towards them to kick the gun over to Zayn who seems to have taken the moment of shock as a chance to struggle himself free. He picks it up and points it at O'Donnell. The Creeper immediately turns around and sprints away from the basketball court. Some of the others follow him. Again others are just starring at their leader in shock. The rest is starting to look over to Niall in rage, although I don't know why.

"Get out of here," Liam yells over to Zayn, "we got this, just get Curly out of here!"

Zayn nods once and runs over to me and Harry, still lying on the ground. This has all happened so fast, I still don't even know what was going on the entire time.

When Zayn reaches us, Harry has already helped me up and I can feel my injured calf throb again. I must have fallen onto it when Harry pushed me over. They both take one of my sides to help me move away from the scene faster, but nobody seems to be interested in us anymore.

When I accidentally touch Harry's bicep with my hand, I can feel him wince and jerk away from it. I remember his whimper and his pained face when the first shot what fired, and look at him in concern.

"Are you alright, Harry," I ask him, my voice sounding embarrassingly fearful.

"It’s just a graze," Harry grunts, wrapping his good arm tighter around my waist for more support.

"Are you sure?" I check again, looking at his face sideways to be sure that he's not lying to me.

Harry's eyes find mine and he smiles fondly. "Am I the one being carried or are you?" he murmurs, squeezing my waist playfully.

Instantly, I feel my heart racing even though I know this is entirely the wrong time. "I'm not being carried," I protest and try to rid myself from the butterflies in my stomach, especially with Zayn walking on my other side. "I can walk alone," I assure them, but they don't let go of me.

"Yeah, like a little fawn," Zayn scoffs. As we leave the street of the basketball court, he turns around to check if we're being followed, before he shoves the gun in the back of his pants to hide it from possible witnesses. We also slow down a bit, so we don't look too suspicious.

"Shut your mouth, Malik," I say, half-smirking, before I turn serious, "What actually happened? I kinda lost track when Harry pushed me to the ground."

"I'm sorry, but I had to! You just didn't stop talking," Harry says frantically, "He warned you and you kept pushing him."

"He saved your life, Tommo," Zayn says, almost sounding surprised at the memory, "He pushed you out of the way when fatty tried to shoot you." He looks past me, right at Harry. "He even took your bullet."

I look at Harry in surprise.

His cheeks are turning slightly pink which makes him look adorable. Why is he the only person who doesn't look ridiculous when blushing?

"I didn't 'take his bullet'. Like I said, it's just a graze wound," he mumbles modestly.

"No need to be humble, pal," Zayn smirks.

"I’m not humble. But it’s just not that heroic. I just couldn’t let him die," Harry murmurs, looking to the ground.

I gently run my thumb up and down Harry's neck as a silent thank you and look back to Zayn. "And Fletcher?" I say, "Is he... dead?"

Zayn shrugs. "Think so," he says indifferently.

I sigh. I'm actually glad about it. He was a pain in the ass. But I'm a bit worried about Liam. None of us has ever killed someone. We use knives and guns but we only injure or threaten people. We’re not murderers. "I hope Liam's alright," I murmur, "He's strong, but he's got a big heart. I hope he's not going to freak out over this?"

"Why Liam?" Zayn says and looks at me, "He wasn't the one who fired the second shot. It was Niall. Niall killed Fletcher."


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Liam's POV**

This day was definitely one of the worst days at work in my life. First the horror of almost seeing my friends die and then all the follow-up work keeping me busy the whole afternoon.

And the day even started off quite relaxing. Since this was supposed to be Niall's last shift at the police station, we tried to enjoy it as much as possible, with blasting music and stolen donuts on our patrol around the city.

I didn't expect it to go haywire right after that.

I'm still finishing my paperwork about the incident of this early afternoon even though the sun is going down already and I haven't left my desk for hours.

I also haven't seen Niall since we got here. He didn't talk much since he fired the shot that killed Fletcher. I think he's still in shock.

When I finally finish my last police log, I hurry to gather my things and leave early. I grab the file about Tony Fletcher's death and make my way to my superior's desk.

But before I get there I see Niall, sitting on a chair, his blonde hair disheveled. His eyes are still as wide and unfocused as they were hours ago. His fingers can't seem to stop picking at the fabric of his loose uniform trousers.

I squat down in front of him, trying to make eye contact but it feels like he doesn't even see me.

"Hey, you okay?" I say to make myself noticed.

At first I think Niall didn't hear me, but when he slowly nods his head, I know he did. But I don't buy it.

"Nialler," I say, put down my things, and touch his knees lightly, "talk to me, man."

As if he has been waiting for my request, he lifts his head to look at me in regret. "I didn't mean to, Liam," he whispers.

"Mean to what?" I furrow my eyebrows in wonder.

"To... to kill him," he says, looking so sad. I've never seen him like this.

"Niall," I start without knowing what to say. I feel so bad for him. He is our youngest captain and I always feel like I need to protect him. I should've been the one to shoot Fletcher.

"I was trying to shoot his arm," Niall insists, "when I saw that he was about to fire a second shot, I knew I had to do something. So I wanted to shoot his arm. He was trying to shoot at Louis again, you saw that, too. Liam, right?" he says, the words falling from his lips at a fast pace, "he was about to shoot again, right? You saw that, too!"

He looks at me with such intensity that I almost want to look away.

"Of course I did, Niall," I say empathic, "You reacted perfectly fine."

"Louis was already on the ground," Niall says as if trying to reason his actions in front of me, "There was no way for Harry to save Lou again, right? And Harry was on the ground, too. I didn't have a choice," he is ranting now, "but I was trying to shoot his arm. I wanted him to let go of the gun, just let go of it. I was pointing at his arm. I was! I promise..." he shakes his head in defeat.

"Niall, I believe you, you don't have to explain anything. You did the right thing," I try to calm him down.

Suddenly his eyes fill with tears. "I didn't mean to," he huffs, "I had to think about my friends first. He wanted to kill Louis. And Harry was already hit. I just had to do something, but I didn't mean to." I know he is talking to himself by now, not listening to anything I say anymore.

His head falls into his hands and he doesn't move for a moment. "I killed him, Liam," I hear his croaky voice, muffled by his hands, before his body starts shaking with sobs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Louis' POV**

"So, now we both have bullet wounds," Harry says excitedly while he carries the kettle over to one of our make-shift bathtubs to pour in more steaming water. Our bathtubs are barrels, vertically cut in half to form a small version of an actual tub.

"So cool, we should register a club," I say sarcastically.

Harry frowns. "Hm, but what would we call ourselves," he mumbles in thought, "Slightly Wounded Worriers, or maybe just Shot Squad."

I can't help but laugh. "Harry, that was a joke," I chuckle. Did he actually mean that? Did I seriously just need to explain it to him?

"Huh?" Harry turns away from filling the kettle with fresh cold water to look at me, "but Shot Squad is a really cool name for a club, don't you think?"

I only laugh. Harry frowns again. He sits down with his arms crossed in front of his chest, leaning against the barrel opposite me to wait for the last kettle to boil. I made him do all the work again, oops.

"Suck it up, H," I chuckle after watching him sulk for a while, "You're a dork, deal with it."

At the nickname, Harry can't seem to keep up the dark expression on his face. "You called me 'H' again," he smiles.

"Well you call me 'Lou' sometimes," I reply hastily, feeling caught, "You did today, at the basketball court."

"Don't all your friends call you that, sometimes?" he asks me, getting up to get the boiling water.

When he has turned away, I smile, hoping he's saying what I think he is. "Yeah, I guess they do," I mumble through my smile.

"Sometimes, you also call me ‘Hazza’ or ‘Haz’," Harry says, sounding a bit too casual to be indifferent.

"I do," I admit without any further explanation.

"I like it when you call me that," he says, pouring the water into the tub.

"You do?" I ask, "What's so special about it?"

"Dunno," Harry shrugs, "Makes me feel like we're friends. Like you care about me."

"...yeah-" I say, my voice breaking. I really don't know what to reply without sounding like an idiot. If only he knew.

He looks down at me then, extending his hand to help me up. "You're going in first?" he offers.

"Of course I am," I smirk, taking his hand and getting up, "I don't wanna sit in your lukewarm filth water, later."

"Fair enough," Harry laughs, putting his hands on my waist to keep me steady. He's close now, so close that I have to tilt my head up slightly to be able look into his eyes.

"You know what might be another idea? One where we could both enjoy the hot water?" Harry says under his breath, his bright green eyes looking dark all of a sudden, "We could both get in there together."

My breath hitches. I’m almost certain that I didn’t hear him right. I'm expecting the corner of his lips to pull up into a mischievous smile any second but it doesn't come. His eyes stay serious and there is something else in his look that I can't quite decipher.

"The barrel is really small," I mumble, absentmindedly playing with the grey hoodie that he is still wearing and that actually belongs to me.

"I can see that," Harry says matter-of-factly, but he doesn't even look.

"Two grown men are a crowd in there," I tell him, my eyes flickering to his lips again to check for the smirk that I know must be appearing right about now. But it doesn't.

Instead, he tightens his grip around my waste, moving his thumbs up and down. "I'm sure we could work something out," Harry says in a throaty voice.

When I notice that I’m holding my breath, I force myself to break eye contact and take a step back.

"Or you could watch me go first," I joke in a loud voice to defuse the tension between us, "I know you like that better, anyways," I wink at him sarcastically.

"Much better," Harry smiles politely, resting his hands on his lower back like he does.

I reach behind my head and pull off Harry's shirt that hasn't quite lost his smell yet, even though I have been wearing it all day.

"Could you turn around for a second?" I ask Harry when I've gotten out of my jeans, too. I'm feeling quite uncomfortable with his eyes on my naked skin.

"Uh, yeah," he says, his tongue darting out to lick his lips before he turns around quickly.

I hurry to get out of my boxers and into the bathtub. I love the feeling of first stepping into the hot water of a nice bath. I get goosebumps all over my body and sigh in content. I lower my head into the water, letting it enclose me completely. This is one of the very few luxuries that we have here. We can have a bath pretty much every day. Yes, it is water from the creek nearby and it takes about an hour to boil enough of it to heat up the whole tub, but the result is definitely worth it.

When I come up again, Harry is sitting on the rim of the tub by my feet.

"Oh, hey," I say in surprise, making sure he can't see my junk in any way.

Harry notices. "Don't worry, I have the same. No need to keep the mystery," he winks.

"Oh, believe me, he'd be too much to handle for a guy like you," I counter with a smirk, "I'm protecting your health here."

"Is that so?" Harry laughs, "Because I'm sensing little Louis is shy."

"Not at all, I can tell you so much. And now shut your mouth, curly. I'm trying to relax over here," I joke and tilt by head back to rest it against the barrel. This is seriously so awkward.

I watch the other boy running his eyes over my skin for a while, surprisingly feeling less and less uncomfortable with the idea of being stark naked in his presence.

"Why a stag?" Harry says after a long period of silence.

"Stag?" I repeat in confusion.

He motions towards a rather big tattoo on my right arm.

"Oh," I look at it and shrug. "He's a proud leader. And strong. He protects his people," I answer simply, "He's also gentle... and mostly because I thought it would look cool."

Harry stares at me in amazement until he blinks his eyes and focuses on the last part of my answer. "Look cool… I thought as much," Harry chuckles which makes me frown.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'," Harry shrugs, "Your tattoos just seem... a bit random."

"Random?" I exclaim in disbelieve, then pause, "...well, yeah," I admit, looking at them, "but you're one to talk, am I right, grown man with a head-sized butterfly in the middle of his torso."

At my words, Harry lifts the hoodie to look at said tattoo. The sudden exposure of his tummy is making a blush creep up my cheeks, immediately.

"It's not head-sized," he states obliviously, putting one of his hands over the tattoo to try and cover it completely which doesn't work. And he has big hands.

"See, it's huge," I laugh, "did you get that when you were high?"

"As a matter of fact, I didn't," Harry says in a mock huffy tone, "And it's a moth, not a butterfly, for your information."

"Hear, hear," I snort, "And a moth is _so_ much more manly than a butterfly."

"Yes, it is! It really is, don't you think?" Harry insists.

"Course it is," I wink at him mockingly.

Harry blows his cheeks out and pulls the hoodie back down.

"You'll have to pay for that, you know?" I joke, pointing at the hole in his sleeve where the bullet ripped open the fabric and along with it, Harry's skin underneath, "It's ripped and bloody, and I won't have it. I wore your shirt with caution and love, and you took mine for granted."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. You can have one of mine," Harry says in an apologetic tone, ignoring my sarcasm.

"Uh-huh, that's right," I say, ignoring his serious tone, too, "that's the least you can do. Consciously jumping in front of that bullet _just_ to ruin my sweater," I click my tongue and shake my head, "I'm disappointed."

When I see Harry's expression, I know he has caught on. He narrows his eyes at me playfully and actually flips me off. I laugh at the gesture but stop when I notice that Harry is still looking at me in all seriousness.

"I'm glad, it's just the hoodie," he smiles, and looks at the damage.

"And your arm," I add.

"Yeah, well," he shrugs, "That one doesn't really have tattoos, so..."

"Thank god," I chuckle.

"Thank god, nothing worse happened," he nods in agreement, "It could hit something way more important than the skin on my arm… and I don’t even want to imagine what would've happened if we hadn't found Zayn in time."

"Yeah," I frown, suddenly feeling a bit angry at the thought, "Imagine, right? You'd have been on the other side of the world by now," I say with some bitterness in my tone.

"I didn't mean that," Harry says calmly, "What I meant was, thank god we were there to help your brother, right?"

He looks at me expectantly but somehow I can't make myself see the positive things about this afternoon anymore. "Yeah, and thank god you’d managed to rid yourself of the rope in time, right?" I huff, somewhat angry at Harry for bringing it up, "Thank god you were planning on running away before we saw that Zayn was in danger, am I right?"

"It wasn't my fault that you didn't tie my hands well enough, was it?" Harry says and I can hear some annoyance in his voice as well, "And it also wasn't my fault that you didn't notice how I wasn't tied to you anymore, even before we reached the court. You should’ve probably been more attentive of your prisoner."

"Yeah, but I need to be able to trust you, Harry. I can't always worry about that," I reply.

"Lou," Harry sighs, looking into the water in front of him, instead of my face, "You have got to understand that you are keeping me here against my will. And I know my chances. And when I see one, I'll take it."


	27. Twenty-Seven

**Louis' POV**

"Oi, Tommo! Good to see that you're worrying about your body hygiene whilst the rest of us are here, working our butts off to keep the fireplaces running," Carlos calls over to me as Harry and I enter the main hall with still damp hair from the bathing.

I can see that they have been stocking up on the fire wood while we've been away.

"Where have you been all day, idiot?" I ask him as I sit down by the camp fire, ignoring his comment before.

"I bet you wanna know, huh?" he winks at me annoyingly.

"Cut the crap and tell me where you were, Carlos, we could've needed you today," I roll my eyes.

"He was with Jade," Perrie answers for Carlos. She is half sitting on top of Zayn. She hasn't let go of him since we told her about what happened on the basketball court.

"Jade Thirlwall?" Liam says in surprise, "When did that happen?"

"What can I say? I like older women," Carlos smirks proudly.

"Don't ever let Jade hear the word 'old'. She'll kill you," Perrie says dryly.

"Oh, don't worry," Carlos chuckles immaturely, "we don't talk much, anyways-"

"Why are we talking about Carlos' love life again," Liam cuts him off there, "because nobody really cares." He gives Niall a worried side-glance who is sitting next to him without looking at anyone. So Liam gets up to walk over to me and Harry.

"How is he?" I say quietly when he has taken a seat next to Harry.

Liam shakes his head. "The only time I've really heard him talk since he shot Fletcher, was when he told me that he didn't mean to kill him and then started to cry for 20 minutes," he whispers with a grave expression, "I don't know what to do. I keep telling him that he did the right thing and that he saved your life, but he doesn't listen. He doesn't look like himself anymore."

I look over to the blonde boy. His eyes are red and unfocused, his expression lacking the usual glow. He seems lost in his own thoughts, occasionally pressing his fist against his thigh.

"I feel like he can't let go of it," Liam says.

"It happened today," Harry frowns, “How could he already be over it?”

"I know," Liam agrees, "All I’m saying is that I can’t convince him to stop beating himself up over it. Let’s see what he looks like tomorrow."

"Maybe we can swing by the beach tomorrow night if he doesn't look better then," I suggest, "Maybe the Shark Heads can help taking his mind off things. We haven't seen them in a while."

"Good idea," Liam smiles. I know he'd be as happy to see them again as I would.

When I see Harry yawn heavily, I lightly pad his knee and look at Liam. "I guess we'll go to bed now. Was a long day," I say with a fond smile at Harry.

"See you tomorrow," Liam says with a weird look on his face that I don't even want to try and figure out.

When Harry and I are about to leave the others, I hear Carlos' voice from behind. "Oh yeah, Louis," he calls, "I kinda haven't stocked up on the fire wood in _your_ room. You might wanna get that yourself."

"Sorry?" I turn around to look at him.

"Yeah, that might have been my job tonight and I forgot," the boy snickers, "or I might have thought that you could lift your butt for once, too."

I groan in annoyance but can't help the smirk. "You're a pain, pal, you know that? A huge one," I point at him threateningly.

"I know you love me, boss," he winks, blowing me a kiss on his middle finger.

"Sorry, but I guess there's work waiting for us, Harry," I say to the boy next to me and pull him towards the exit.

"What do you mean 'us'?" he says in a mock innocent voice, "It's _your_ room."

"Eeeeey," Carlos hollers behind us, laughing, "I like that guy. We should keep him!"

" _Our_ room," I hiss at Harry through my teeth and press my torch in his hand. If he wants to be sassy, he can start working now.

It's pitch black outside. Not even the moon or the stars are brightening up the night a little because the sky is cloudy. The only light source around is the torch in Harry's hand. Good thing I know this part of the forest so well or we'd have trouble finding our way to the fire wood.

"It's pretty dark," I hear Harry's voice right next to me and smirk.

"What? Are you scared?" I smile in amusement.

"I'm not scared," he protests but doesn't say anything else for a while.

I look at him in the darkness. His eyes are trained on the ground in concentration not to fall over a root or a twig. His hair is almost dry and starts curling heavily around his face, looking even softer than usual in the dim light. I can see him bite his tongue from time to time when trying to avoid a slightly bigger root. I don't even have to look at the ground much to walk safely in the darkness, while Harry seems to be barely managing to balance himself. I remember that time when he tried to run away from me and Liam and fell over his own feet after just a few dozen yards. He's so clumsy, maybe it's because of his long limps. A smile creeps onto my lips and I find myself placing a hand on Harry's back.

"Come here, I'll help you," I say quietly, smiling at him but he doesn't see, still keeping his eyes on the forest floor in front of him, "We're almost there, you see?" I point into the darkness where you can barely make out the canopy between the trees.

"You know, I'm not a baby," Harry says with a concentrated crease between his brows.

"No, but you walk like one," I chuckle without pulling my hand away, "Even I can walk better, with the injury on my calf."

"Only because you know these woods," Harry pouts, pushing his full bottom lip out and making me forget what I was about to say next.

When we reach the canopy I jump up to sit on a pile of uncut logs and let Harry gather some already cut wood for our room.

"Dude, I can't wait to get into bed," I groan, stretching my back to all sides to try and get rid of the tension there, "I'm exhausted."

Harry smirks at me from a few feet away. "If you helped me, we'd be done faster," he murmurs without really meaning it.

"Oh, there isn't much to do, and you know it," I stop him with a wave of my hand, "You just need to gather some dry logs. And also, the day has been far more exhausting for me than for you. If I remember correctly, Fletcher was after _me_ , not you."

The tall boy laughs at my words, straightening up and turning to me completely. "You're the laziest person I have ever come across, Louis," he exclaims, throwing a piece of bark at me which I catch in my hands.

I shrug my shoulders with a smile. "It's a gift," I say, throwing it back at him and hitting him right in the head.

"Ow," he laughs, holding his head as if I'd hit him with a rock.

"Stop moaning. Your head is still attached," I roll my eyes in mock annoyance.

Harry chuckles, ruffling his hair. "Well then," he smiles, "let's get back to the cave."

"Wait," I look at his hair, "It's still sticking in there... the bark."

"It is?" Harry mumbles, padding his head but he doesn't find it with his hands. The expression on his face is priceless.

"Come over here, you fool," I laugh, trying not to fall off the pile of logs, "I'll get it for you."

When Harry has walked over to me and stops in between my legs, I am still chuckling heavily.

"What?" Harry laughs himself, "What's so funny?"

I raise my hands next to his head and troll for the bark in his curls but it is dark and Harry left the torch on the metal roof of the canopy behind us. I don’t even know what is so funny.

"It's stuck," I chuckle, "Your curls won't let the poor thing go anymore. Help! They're fighting against my fingers! They have a life of their own," I exclaim, fumbling with his hair.

Harry squirms of laughter by now, making it even harder for me to get the bark out.

"You're not helping, Hazza," I laugh, "hold still, so I can save a fellow soldier."

"You're just messing with me, aren't you? There's actually no bark in my hair," Harry chuckles, right before I finally manage to get it out of his hair and hold it up for him to see. Harry raises his eyebrows in recognition, and I carelessly throw the bark into the darkness next to us, never stopping to look into his eyes.

"I saved you," I joke, but my voice sounds quieter now, calmer.

"Guess we're even, then," Harry smiles, putting his hands on my knees.

I can't even think of a cheeky remark because his proximity fascinates me just like each time before. I can feel Harry move his thumbs to draw circles on my inner knees. The feeling makes me want to jerk away, call him dude, and fist bump with him like I do with my pals. But the look in his eyes calms me so much that I change my mind and let it happen. His eyes look at me in certainty, like he wants to be right here and nowhere else.

"I was scared for you today," Harry says under his breath. When he stops moving his thumbs, I absentmindedly graze my fingertips over his hands in comfort.

"No need to be scared for me," I smile, "I'm like bad weeds. You won't ever get rid of me."

"No," Harry says immediately and takes my hands in urgency, "you're not like bad weeds. More like pretty flowers," he smiles at me, "I wouldn't even want to get rid of you."

"Um, you mean I'm like a strong, tall tree, right?" I joke and build myself up in front of him.

"Yeah," Harry chuckles, "You're so tall. Gigantic even," he smiles, squeezing my knees lightly.

"Yes, I am. And strong, too," I say and loop my arms around his waist, pulling him closer to me for amplification.

"That's what I like about you," Harry says, slowly moving his hands up my thighs, "You're tiny, but you're strong."

"Tiny?" I stop short, grabbing his waist tighter, "I thought we just agreed that I was tall," I pout in disappointment, even though I know that he was only joking earlier.

Harry just smiles at me fondly instead of finding an apology. Then he slowly leans forward, moving his hands further up my thighs and over my hips before he hugs me to himself securely. I can feel his warmth and his steady heartbeat against my chest. He makes me feel so save and at home, it's like he's always been part of my life.

Harry moves his face along my jawline until he reaches the crook of my neck, breathing in deeply. "You smell so good, Louis," he hums against my skin, making me shiver in response. "So good," Harry repeats with a throaty voice and nestles his face further into my neck.

Slowly, I run my hands up his chest, well aware of the muscles underneath his shirt, and loop my arms around his neck to draw him even closer to my chest. My heart is beating so fast, and I would normally be ashamed of it but for some reason I want him to feel it. I want him to know what he does to me.

"You're so different," he whispers, starting to press his lips faintly down my neck, "Different from anyone else."

"Harry," I breathe and a low moan escapes my throat while I press my heels against the back of his thighs which pulls us together completely. There is no space left between our bodies now, but it doesn't feel like he's nearly close enough.

I can feel his heartbeat, too. He seems to enjoy this just as much as I do, but I don't see a reason. Nonetheless, his breath is heavy when he lifts his head slowly, keeping his face close to mine. His eyes find mine after wandering over my chin, my lips and my nose. He is so close that the tips of our noses almost touch. When I see him move even closer, his lips slightly parted, I swallow hard but my throat is so dry that it doesn't quite work. There's a tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach when I feel Harry's hand run up and down my spine.

He looks into my eyes with curiosity, mixed with a hint of caution. His pupils are blown wide, making them look dark and desiring. I want to kiss him so badly it hurts. I haven't allowed these kind of feelings for a long time but with Harry, they seem to be inevitable.

I can feel Harry's breath enter my mouth as both of us breathe through our parted lips now and our faces are so close, but Harry is still getting closer and I know our lips will touch, any second.

Harry squeezes my hips as if he knows what's going through my mind. "Don't pull away this time, Lou," he whispers against my lips lowly.

But before he can close the last bit of distance between us, I startle at his words and turn my face away from him. "I'm sorry," I mutter, releasing him from my embrace and pushing him away gently. I feel gutted. I really wanted to let him kiss me. But I just couldn't help it.

I look at Harry in the darkness and regret it instantly. He doesn't look at me. He only looks at the ground in front of him. But to my surprise he looks disappointed, hurt even. But how can he be hurt? He doesn't honestly feel the same thing as I am feeling, right? No need for him to feel rejected. No, that would be insane. Why did I even apologize? He clearly didn't want to kiss me.

After a moment that feels like hours, Harry turns around to pick up half of the logs he gathered and the torch. "Let's go back," he grunts, his voice still sounding hoarse. And without another glance in my direction, he walks past me and into the darkness.


	28. Twenty-Eight

**Harry's POV**

"Hey, why are you walking alone, mate?" I ask as I catch up with Niall who is on his way out of the cave, "It's your surprise trip that we are off to right now, remember?"

Niall only shrugs without looking at me. He hasn't been very talkative and has pretty much kept to himself all these past days. He’s still beating himself up over shooting that guy. Louis said that we'll go to the beach so Niall can take his mind off things if he doesn’t get better. So I guess we're going there now... Not that you can count on Louis giving you anything but false hope. I’m still pretty disappointed and angry about that night at the canopy, and I’ve tried to talk to him as little as possible, since.

"Look, just try to have a good time tonight, alright?" I attempt to keep the conversation going, "Don't do it for the others. Just do it for yourself."

"Yeah," Niall sighs.

"Promise me you'll try?" I ask, touching his shoulder.

Niall smiles at me, but it seems forced. "Sure," he murmurs.

"Hey, handsome," somebody calls from behind, "I'm talking to you, new guy."

Niall and I turn around. It's the blue haired girl that Louis had a fight with the other morning. Kim.

"I gotta go," Niall mumbles when he sees her, and quickens his pace without another glance at the girl that is running towards me.

"Harry," she smiles when she has reached me, a little out of breath, "You're going to be my seat mate on the car ride, yeah?"

"I'm... I actually haven't thought about that yet," I say, feeling somewhat puzzled. I thought she was mad at me for laughing at Louis' insults about her.

"Please?" she beams, "I promise I'll make it worth your while," she winks at me, "Pretty please?"

"Oh, um yeah, sure," I smile back at her, although it was actually only fun to respond to her flirting while Louis was around. At least until I realized that he doesn't like me that way. I can’t believe I had actually thought that he might like me back. But in all honesty, he had given me that impression quite a few times since I’ve arrived here. Nonetheless, he clearly isn’t interested. I mean, I _told_ him not to pull away, the other night. I practically told him that I was going to kiss him, and he still pulled away. He rejected me twice that night. Once in the washing room and then again by the canopy. I have clearly misread the signs.

"Cool," Kim exclaims obliviously.

We walk next to each other in the semi-darkness of the evening sky without anything to talk about which makes me feel really uncomfortable, as always. "So... where are we going exactly? I don't quite understand yet," I say when I finally think of something to say. Why isn't it hard at all to find something to talk about with Louis?

"Oh, we're going to see the Shark Heads, they live at the beach," Kim explains.

"Shark Heads?" I frown, "Who's that?"

"They're friends of ours, silly," Kim giggles, lightly slapping my biceps, "Pretty much the only other gang around here that we trust. They're really cool."

"Oh, nice," I say, subtly removing her hand from my arm.

She doesn’t seem to care. "Yes! I'm always excited to see them," she says giddily, now looping her arm around mine instead, "fresh faces, you see?"

"Uh-huh, I see," I nod my head, removing her arm again. This time a little more pointedly. She really likes fresh things. Fresh faces, fresh meat.

"Oh actually, Perrie is going to be even more excited than I, she always gets the most excited when we go for a visit," Kim continues.

"Ah, how come?" I ask, mainly to be polite.

"Oh, you didn't know?" Kim's eyes go wide in excitement, "She always misses her girls."

"Well no, I don’t know. I haven't been around here for long, have I?" I wink at her and regret it instantly, as she loops her arm around mine again.

"See, Perrie wasn't always a Sparrow," Kim says in a scandalizing voice, "When Zayn got kicked out by his parents and he met Louis at a bar, five years ago, Perrie was a Shark Head. When we first visited the Sharks with Zayn, him and Perrie kinda hit it off from the very first night if you know what I mean," she winks and can't help a giggle, "They're really cute though, true love and all that, right?" she quickly adds when she realizes that I'm not laughing along, "Um, yeah... so after some months, Perrie became a Sparrow to spend more time with Zayn."

"Oh, wow," I grunt, "Didn't know that."

"Yeah, but Perrie still misses her girls awfully," Kim pouts dramatically, adding in a proud tone, "although she really likes me, too!"

I smile at her, not knowing how to respond properly. Fortunately, we reach the cars this very minute and I get a break from talking to Kim as she climbs into a Jeep. Before I get the change to follow her, I hear a small voice next to me.

"Hey, Harry," it's Louis. I don't know where he came from but suddenly he is right beside me, giving me a cautious look. I turn around to look at him, but I can't even get a hi out. All the muscles in my face seem to fail, the second I look into his face. I feel so ashamed for throwing myself at him like I did, the other night. Also, I haven’t really talked to him in days. I didn’t expect him to suddenly approach me.

"I know we haven't talked much lately," he says quietly when he realizes that I just won't reply, "but I thought you might wanna sit with me again, on the car ride?" He pauses to give me a chance to answer. I don't get him. He didn’t want anything to do with me in the past days. Even that very night we didn’t talk anymore. When we got back to his room, I went straight to bed because I felt so disappointed and ashamed. He didn't even try to talk to me either. He just went to bed, too. And so since then, I kind of tried to avoid him, spending a lot of time with Niall and also Liam and Zayn. They are really nice, actually. But Louis tried to avoid me just as much. And now he randomly wants to sit with me, again?

"You know,” he continues, “like we did when we went to the city to get Zayn... I, yeah... I kinda liked that," he looks at his feet while talking. But I still don't respond, immediately. I'd really like to sit next to him, too. I hated not talking to him, and I'm glad that it looks like he isn't mad at me for trying to kiss him.

"I mean..." I begin reluctantly, but then decide to just go with my heart, "yes, I'd li-"

"Oi, get in here, handsome," Kim interrupts me right then, "What are you waiting for? We were going to be seat mates, remember, baby?"

Louis looks up at me with a frown, pursing his lips and shoving his hands in his pocket.

"I-I'm sorry, I forgot," I apologize to Louis, "I promised her.."

Louis nods his head but he doesn't look understanding. "You _forgot_ , I see."

"Hazza," Kim chirps from behind, "I'm waiting."

When Louis turns his head to look into the forest, I turn around and get into the car, sitting between Kim and Niall. He already seems annoyed by her.

"Ugh, look at him," Kim scoffs, pointing at Louis who just enters the other Jeep, "can he smile, just once? Like a real smile? He's so grumpy all the time."

"Yes, he can," I answer simply.

"Well, I haven't seen one in forever," Kim shrugs.

"That's probably because you're a pain in the ass," Niall grumbles under his breath. Kim shoots him a death glare but looks back over to Louis, immediately.

"Like, his face is so not pretty when he's all stern and serious. Like, what? Is he trying to look sexy or something?" she laughs airily, "Because it's _so_ not working."

Niall looks at me, rolling his eyes. I chuckle silently. Wow, she is annoying. She's really pretty but I already can't wait for the arrival and Liam hasn't even started the car yet.

"To be fair, Louis did just look quite irritated when he got into the car," Niall says to me when Beth gets into the passenger seat of the car. I guess he just wants to seem busy talking, so Beth won't bother him. Since Niall came home, looking miserable after shooting Fletcher, the girl had been all over him. And while he had always liked her attention, in the past, he was simply done with her constant present, by now.

"Guess so," I reply to Niall’s comment and shrug.

"You guys didn't really talk lately, did you?" he murmurs so the others won’t hear, "Did anything happen?"

I shake my head a tad too quickly. "No, no everything is fine," I lie, "He just... he’s quite busy, these days, I guess..."

"Mate, today, he was lying in the sun all day with Zayn, boring himself to death. They were even trying to smoke leaves and actual grass and an apple out of boredom," Niall raises his eyebrow in amusement.

"Yeah, that's true," I admit, "Well maybe he's just a little down, right now. And that’s why he looked irritated."

"Yeah, maybe," Niall says, giving me a knowing look before adding, "Come on, Harry. What happened? Talk to me."

I look away from him in shame, but decide that I really could just tell him. We've talked about things like that before and he was fine. I know I can’t just go about this like a bull at a gate, but maybe I can find a way to tell him, without giving away too much.

"Alright, yeah, we haven't talked much in a while," I admit, "it's just so confusing. I don’t know where I’m at with him... One minute he pulls you closer - so close," I shake my head and sigh in disappointment, "and the next he pushes you away like you're some creep that's coming onto him." Yeah, that works. I could be talking idiomatically.

"Ehrmm," Kim says from my other side, "You're talking in metaphors here, right?" She laughs nervously. Of course she's been eavesdropping. "Like, there is no actual pulling and pushing, is there?"

I turn around to her in disbelieve. Can she be any more insensitive?

"Um, okay?" is everything that I can think to answer.

"Next time you guys metaphorically push and pull… especially when you pull, remember that there are kids living here, mate," Niall whispers in my ear so Kim doesn't hear, "Though, I hope there will only be pulling, next time." There's a hint of a smirk in his voice and when I turn around to look at him, there is something in his smile that I can't seem to figure out. What is he saying?

I clear my throat, feeling slightly awkward for not getting what he was trying to say. "Yeah, hopefully he'll be in a better mood tonight," I smile, trying to distract him, "Maybe we'll have a lot of fun tonight and he'll be better, tomorrow."

Kim turns to me, again, obviously having caught that. "Oh, believe me, babe," she leans in to whisper in my ear, "We _always_ have a lot of fun at the beach."


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Harry's POV**

After an driving about half an hour along the border of the city, we reach the beach just when the clouds start to disappear, giving the moon a chance to shine. Liam parks the car at the edge of the street, next to the car that Zayn has just stopped.

The beach is completely empty except for two lifeguard stations in the distance on the left and the right end of the beach. Right in front of us lies a big camp fire, halfway towards the water. There are about a dozen shapes moving around it and there seems to be faint music. There is no sitting area on this beach, there is no beach lounge, and no dance floor like I am used to from the beaches I usually go to. There is just litter, a whole lot of litter.

When I get out of the car behind Beth, I see Louis getting out of the other car as well. He doesn't even look at me. He just slams the door shut and walks right past me towards the fire. I can't help but feel guilty for turning down his offer to sit with me on the car ride, even though I know that there is nothing to feel bad about. Also, he rejected me first. In a different way, but still.

"Ever seen this kind of a beach before, rich boy?" Liam jokes as he gets out of the car to stand next to me, smirking at me sarcastically.

"It looks... nice," I reply politely. I'm definitely not used to beaches like this.

"Yeah, I know right," Liam chuckles and puts his palm on my back, "sorry we can't serve you pawns and champagne tonight, but I guess beer and crisps will do, right?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just the hostage," I say under my breath as Liam gets distracted by two dark figures who walk towards us.

"Look who's here!" he calls over to them, "Luke, Cal, how you doing, lads?"

"Payno, what's up, man?" one of the boys says. As they get closer, I can see that one has blonde hair, the other black.

"Haven't seen you in a while, wanker," the dark haired guy says as he hugs Liam and pretends to kick his knee up into his crotch.

"Careful, Hood, you don't want to have a repeat of the face-in-sand incident from last time, do you?" Liam warns him, laughing.

"Harry," he turns to me, "that's Calum. And the penguin over there is Luke."

The two boys look at me for the first time.

"Oh hey, are you new or something?" Luke asks bluntly.

"That's Harry," Liam introduces me to the two guys, "he's uh... a friend of..." he turns his head to all sides as if looking for the answer until he sees Niall who is just walking around the back of the car, "Niall!" he exclaims.

Luke and Calum look up to see the Irish boy and dramatically gasp, just the same moment Niall sees the two Shark Heads and stops short.

"Niall?" Calum squeaks weakly and opens his arms wide, as if to give him a hug.

Luke begins to mock whimper, doing the same. "Oh my god, Niall! We've missed you so much," he exclaims in a high pitched voice. Both are pretending to sob by now.

Niall seems undecided. He is clearly still mortified from what happened the other day, but something else seems to be trying to overrule these feelings somehow. As if on cue, Calum and Luke run towards Niall, crashing into him and jump up and down while they squeak like little girls that are told they get to meet their idol. It just takes seconds until Niall joins them, jumping up and down in excitement, too.

"We have to tell Michael that you've arrived," Calum wails dramatically, pulling Niall past me and Liam and towards the beach while Luke jumps up Niall's back to return to the fire by a piggyback ride.

I look at them in slight shock while Liam stands next to me, smiling pleased.

"Don't worry, Harry," he chuckles, "that's their normal state when they're together. I had hoped they could make the leprechaun smile again."

"That's their normal state?" I wonder, trying to imagine them when they're excited.

"Yeah, well. They're kind of in a weird fivesome relationship, the three of them and two other Sharks," Liam says, but suddenly stops to chuckle. "Platonically of course," he corrects himself, "like that bromance kinda thing."

I can't help but look at Liam weird. It never made me angry before - mainly because I never even gave it a thought - but now it bothers me that everybody seems to try and distance themselves from anything slightly gay related. It's probably since I've met Louis and started to have these feelings and... urges... that I've started to realize how inconsiderate and rude it is that it’s always expected of you to make sure that nobody thinks you're gay.

"Yeah, of course," I croak and clear my throat quickly.

"Let's go down there, I need some booze right now," Liam pads me on the back and leads me to the camp fire.

As we reach it, I see that the other Sparrows have already sat down around it. Perrie is rolling around the sand in a bunch of squeaking girls that I've never seen and Louis is already sipping away a bottle of beer. Everyone seems to be busy doing their thing so I simply sit down on the next best log, starring into the fire. It doesn't last as long as I thought it would because suddenly somebody sits down next to me with two bottles of beer in their hands.

"Hey mate, want one?" he says, holding one out for me to grab it. He's a rather stocky ginger of medium height with a full sleeve on his arm and a guitar around his shoulder.

"Thanks," I smile at him and take the bottle.

"It's not the greatest. Awful actually, but it does the job," he chuckles, clicking his bottle with mine before he takes a sip. "I'm Ed, by the way," he introduces himself.

"Harry," I say, taking a sip on my own bottle. It really is awful, bland and bitter at the same time.

"Harry, nice to meet you, man," Ed smiles, "Thought I'd join you, you looked a little lost."

"Yeah," I smile somewhat embarrassed, "yeah, lots of new faces. Everyone knows each other. Everyone's excited. Didn't know what to do."

"Don't worry, just do whatever you like, we don't bite," he says, chuckling, "even though we're Sharks."

"Oh my god, you are, aren't you," I laugh. I like his humor. It's simple, just like mine.

We sit next to each other, drinking our beer while everyone around is still laughing and shouting. But it's not awkward, it feels relaxing actually.

"I like your sleeve," I say when my eyes land on it again, "did it take long?"

Ed shrugs. "Not too long," he hums, "Little over a year maybe. Once I started, I couldn't stop."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," I chuckle, showing him my arm.

"Oh, you got quite the sleeve, too," Ed says, looking at my tattoos.

"Not really a sleeve, it's just a lot of tattoos on one arm," I smile, "I have more on the rest of my body."

Ed laughs. "The rest of your body, I see," I winks, making me blush slightly.

"I don't... I didn't mean-" I stutter.

"It's okay, man," Ed chuckles, "Everyone knows the girls love to find an elephant down there."

I force a laugh. "Haha! Yeah, guess so," I mumble.

"What? Are you saying you don't have one?" he jokes.

"Surprisingly no," I smirk.

"Well, if you need someone to tattoo you the trunk of the beast, just ask me," Ed winks, "I got equipment."

"Oh you're the guy that has equipment," I raise my eyebrows, "Louis told me."

"I am. It's fun," he smiles, "seriously, if you want a free tattoo, just ask me. Friends of the Sparrows are our friends, too."

I only smile politely. Technically, I’m not a friend of the Sparrows, but obviously I’m not supposed to tell them. Liam specifically introduced me as a friend.

"What? You don't trust me?" he laughs obliviously.

"Uh, yeah I do," I reply quickly, feeling really uncomfortable, taking another huge gulp of my beer to end the conversation. Ed doesn't seem to mind.

"You play?" I say after a while, pointing at his guitar.

"Definitely," he says, "Do you?"

I shake my head no. "I'm alright but that's all. I'm better at singing," I answer.

"You sing?" Ed says, looking impressed, "That's so cool, mate! I do, too. Sometimes, I perform uptown at the mall for the rich folk, earning a tiny bit of money for us."

I raise my eyebrows in recognition. "Oh my god, yes! I've seen you before," I say excitedly, "You're amazing!"

"You hang out at the mall?" Ed frowns, "They’re hugely expensive. How are you even able to afford some chips, there?"

"Uh, I just walk around there, pretty much," I lie quickly, even though I don’t really know why I should lie for the Sparrows, in the first place. "You know, to try and see if I can find a certain ginger rock star," I laugh to distract Ed from his question, "You really are amazing, you know that?"

"You think?" Ed smiles to the ground, "We should sing together. You're down?" He pulls his guitar onto his lap, looking at me in expectation.

I laugh breathily. "Um, well, maybe some other time," I chuckle, "You can sing, though. I like your voice."

"Come on, one song," he says, "You said you heard me a few times. Do you know a song?"

"Dunno," I mumble. Truth is, I already have a song of his in mind that I love.

"What about Thinking Out Loud?" he suggests, "I always play that. You must've heard it if you hang out there."

"I have, it's my favorite," I nod my head, smiling.

"There you go," he says and starts playing, "I'll start and you back me up, deal?"

I smile at him, not knowing what to do. I look at the others, sitting around the camp fire. How awkward will it be to sing in front of them, knowing that I don't really belong to any of them? Louis is sitting on the other side of the circle, looking up when he hears the first few sounds of the guitar.

"Yes! Finally some music," Luke cheers, making everyone pay attention. At first I feel awkward, but when Ed gets to the chorus which I know by heart, I start singing along and it actually feels great to sing again. The whole time, I try to avoid Louis' frown and keep my eyes on Ed's fingers that move over the guitar in such a light and effortless motion. But every once in a while, I catch myself looking directly at this beautiful boy with his feathery brown hair and his blue eyes and that sexy stubble, feeling like these lines were written for him.

When we finish, the others cheer and whistle and I do to because it was pretty much only Ed singing and every time I listen to him, I'm in awe of his voice.

Suddenly, Louis speaks up who is still sitting there with crossed arms and a bored expression on his face. "Isn't that beautiful," he says loudly, "They just met each other and are already harmonizing together. Terrific." Everyone goes silent in confusion. "Congratulations, Styles, you have made a friend," he scoffs, "You wanna stay with the Sharks from now on?"

I just stare back at him with furrowed eyebrows. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He has no reason to be angry. The bottle that he is holding in his hand is already his second. But that’s no excuse.

"Cut it out, Louis," Liam interferes, "Just drink your beer and shut up if you're in a shit mood."

"What? Are you not able to speak for yourself anymore, Styles," Louis chuckles, "Need to rest your voice for another incredible duet with Mr. Ed Sheeran himself, am I right?"

"Louis," I say quietly. Why is he doing this to me?

"You know what, you guys should start a band. See who else is up for it," Louis huffs, looking around the crowd as if he was being serious.

"Wow, what a killer mood tonight, huh lads," a voice says from behind me and I turn around to look at its owner. It's a tall, lanky guy with dark blonde and wavy hair. I haven't seen him before. He wears a bandana on his head and a ripped band t-shirt with black skinny jeans. "Sorry for being late. But I brought burgers!" he cheers, holding up two full paper bags that I'm sure he has not paid for.

"Ash! Look who's here!" Calum yells and points at Niall with both hands. As soon as bandana-boy sees the Irish boy, he drops the bags and jumps over to him, completely forgetting the food.

Ed chuckles and grabs the bags. "Yeah, they're pretty lame, actually," he smirks when he sees my puzzled look, and hands me a burger. Only now, I realize who hungry I am. I haven't had anything nearly as good as a cold burger in like two weeks.

"By the way, your voice is incredible, too," Ed smiles at me, "are you sure you're not a professional?"

"Absolutely sure," I laugh, "Even though, I was once the lead singer of a band when I was just a kid but we kinda stopped meeting at some point."

"Man, I'm starving! I seriously need a burger right now," bandana-boy says as he walks towards us, sitting down next to me.

"How did you get them, mate?" Ed asks, smirking knowingly.

"You know that the old lady behind the counter is completely infatuated with me, Ed," he smiles proudly. To be honest, I can see why. When he smiles, he presses his lips together, making his mouth look like a very long line from one cheek to the other. In combination with his big honest eyes he looks like a cute frog or a little puppy or both.

"I thought as much," Ed laughs, "that woman would totally bed you if you'd let her. Or breast feed you, whichever you like better."

"Ugh, stop, Teddy," bandana-boy laughs with a disgusted expression on his face, "I'm never going to get the picture out of my head." Then he looks at me as if he just realized that there is a person sitting between him and Ed. "Hi, I'm Ashton," he smiles and I shake his hand, "are you new?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm Harry," I joke, but he doesn’t seem to get it, "Friend of Niall's," I go with what Liam has told Calum and Luke.

"Of Niall's?" Ashton raises his eyebrows, "Good lad, isn't he?"

"Very good lad," I smile.

"You know, at first I thought you were Louis' friend," he says casually, "Seemed really intense when I arrived. I thought he was jealous or something." He looks at me expectantly when I don't reply immediately.

"Oh yeah, no. He's probably just in a bad mood," I say feeling sad at the thought. Louis jealous. No way, that ship has sailed. Not interested is more like it.

"Looked like his bad mood was directed at you personally, though," Ashton persists.

"Guess he just doesn't like me as much as I thought he did," I mumble, in thought.

Ashton doesn't reply for a while, just looking back and forth between me and Louis who is still looking over to us with a deep frown on his face. Suddenly Ashton's face breaks into his adorable smile and he bites into his burger as if he was trying to hide it.

"What?" I wonder, nervously picking on my own burger.

"Nothin'," he smiles before taking an alarmingly long sip of his beer. What does he know that I don’t?


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Louis' POV**

So far this day has sucked.  Harry avoided me the whole time just like he did the past couple of days, and when I finally tried to make peace and talk to him again, he turned me down. And for who? Fucking Kim. She's just using him to make me jealous anyway. She doesn't even want him. She's always wanted me. Ha, joke's on her. I'm not jealous.

And now Harry has spent all night with Ed. Perfect Ed. I'm not surprised that they are getting on so well. Ed is cool. Everybody loves Ed. I love Ed. It's just annoying to see them hanging out like they're old friends while I'm barely managing to get Harry to even tolerate me. They are currently down by the water, watching Ash, Luke, Mikey and Calum night-surfing. They sung another song together before they joined the boys by the water. I must admit that they sound incredible together. I already knew that Harry can sing because I heard him singing around his house a couple of times. But it's just another thing that annoys me about the two of them. They sound so good together. Somehow that doesn’t sit well with me. I wish Harry would sing with me instead. I wish we would sound that good together. But he would probably never sing with me, to begin with. And he’d also hate my voice.

"Hey Tommo, what's wrong?" Niall suddenly appears and sits down next to me.

I shrug. "Nothing's wrong," I huff, "what are you talking about."

"You've been in a horrible mood all night," Niall comments, "Did something happen with Harry?"

My head flips around to look at him. "Why would you say that?" I ask, feeling caught and irritated at the same time.

"Because your mood has been dependent on Harry ever since the first time you saw him about four months ago," Niall says off-handedly, "If he is in a good mood, you're in a good mood. If he is in a bad mood, you're in a bad mood. Whenever he accidentally came really close to you while we were hiding in his house, you were bouncy all day after. And when you didn't see him for a couple of weeks, your mood got worse and worse."

"That's not true," I deny with a frown.

"Louis," Niall says, looking at me knowingly and I can feel my forehead relax, "You can tell me if something is wrong."

When I speak again, I don't dare looking into his eyes. "Nothing is wrong. This has nothing to do with Harry."

"Are you sure?" Niall persists.

"Yes," I say urgently, "It’s not that big of a deal that we’ve been distant lately. Harry and I don't always have to hang out. We're not attached at the hip," I look to the ground, adding under my breath, "We're not even friends... I think."

"Alright, I get it," Niall says, having missed the last part, or ignoring it. He takes a look over his shoulder to where Harry and Ed are standing a little further away.

"I'll get another beer," I say and am about to stand up when Niall stops me.

"Are you sure? You've had loads tonight," he says, keeping his hand on my wrist.

"Who are you? My mom?" I roll my eyes.

Niall frowns. "Alright, but how about you go over to the others," he nods his head towards Harry and the five Sharks, "and tell them to come back. Carlos wants to play some game."

"And he needs all of us for that?" I raise my eyebrow.

"Just... go and ask them, will you?" Niall says almost pleadingly. I know what he's doing. He knows that Harry is responsible for my bad mood in some way, and he is trying to fix it for us. And I do want it to be fixed. I hate feeling this way because of Harry.

So I roll my eyes, pretending to be doing Niall a favor. "Alright, alright," I huff, "Just stop annoying me, already."

I get up and leave the circle, walking towards Harry and Ed. When I’m halfway there, I realize that I forgot my beer. Maybe that's not the worst thing, I did have quite some tonight. I already feel a bit lightheaded.

When I reach the two boys, they seem to be in deep conversation, not noticing me immediately. I stand next to Harry, hands in my pockets and looking out at the ocean when I speak. "So, have you already discussed the terms of your initiation, Harry?"

Both of them look at me, just now noticing that I am here.

"What do you mean?" Harry asks, with a baffled expression.

"Well, since you've been getting along with the leader of the Shark Heads so well, I'm just assuming you're transferring gangs," I say in an indifferent voice, still not looking at any of them.

"Louis, I'm not even part of your gang," Harry mutters under his breath, "And we weren't talking about any of this stuff that you're suggesting."

"So?" I raise my eyebrows and finally look at Harry, "What were you talking about then?"

"Nothing really, chill bro," Ed butts in, "If you really wanna know, we were just talking about surfing at night," he chuckles, adding, "Harry is a bit concerned about the safety of the boys."

"Be fair, it _could_ be dangerous," Harry defends himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Like I said, they know this beach by heart," Ed assures him, "They've been surfing here for years. They know every rock and stone and grain of sand at this beach. They're fine."

"Do you surf, too?" Harry asks Ed, keeping his eyes on the surfers.

"Yeah I do. Not tonight, though. It's freezing out there. Those idiots are suicidal," he says, before he shouts for the boys to get out of the water.

"I surf, too," I say, while Ed is shouting, so Harry knows I'm talking to him only, “…occasionally.”

Harry looks at me, smiling excitedly. "Really? That's so cool," he says, "You should show me sometime."

I can feel something flip in the pit of my stomach. I didn't expect him to react that positive to my second peace offering. I feel like jumping and saying something cheesy, but I decide against it since I don't want to look like an idiot that has been sulking for days, just because Harry seemed like he didn't care about him.

So instead, I just shrug my shoulders. "Yeh, whatever," I croak because I can't think of something cool to reply, right now.

I can see Harry's smile fade in an instant. "Well, it was just a suggestion," he huffs, "You could just say no so I know what you want." It sounds like he is implying something else but I don't have the time to think about it before he turns around and walks back to the camp fire.

"Huh? What's wrong with people tonight?" Ash says as he walks towards us, looking at Harry's back.

Ed shrugs his shoulders. "Don't know, man. He was fine just a moment ago when I talked to him," he says.

"It's nothing, he just doesn't know whether to be mad at me or not," I frown and hand Ashton a towel.

"Hmm, that kinda sounds like Ash and Luke," Ed says lightly, "doesn't it, pal."

"Yeah," Ash looks at me pointedly, "It really does."

"At least, you admit it. I sometimes feel like you're on your period when you're mad at Luke," Ed says.

Right then, Luke joins us, shaking and only in dripping wet shorts and a t-shirt. Ed puts a big baby pink towel around his shoulders and walks him back to the camp fire. He is the youngest of the Shark Head captains so the others feel a bit more protective over him. The Shark Heads have the same policy as the Sparrows, only that they have nearly no members under 14. The only kids in their gang are siblings of older members.

Ashton's eyes linger on Luke who is walking off with still shaking shoulders. Only when he reaches the camp fire he looks away and turns to me. "You know, Ed is right," Ash says earnestly, "I sometimes can't decide whether to be mad at Luke or not. Only difference between me and him and you and Harry is that I am not lucky enough that Luke is just as mad at me as I am at him."

I look at him, feeling completely puzzled. "Are you speaking in English right now, kangaroo?" I joke, "I literally have no idea what you were just saying?"

"What I just said made total sense," Ash says, shaking his head, "You just suck at reading between the lines. Both when I am talking as well as when Harry is, apparently."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, let's play some good old truth or dare," Carlos announces, slapping Jade's thigh. Jade is one of Perrie's old friends. And evidently Carlos' new fling. She has been sitting on his lap all night, heavily making out with him. I don't know what they still need truth or dare for since this game has literally been invented for snogging purposes, and they've already done that for hours.

"How old are we again?" I roll my eyes, popping open another bottle of beer. Yes, I'm drinking again. Harry wouldn't care either way.

"Exactly at the right age to make this fun," Calum says, smiling big, "Let's go!"

I roll my eyes again. I'm usually always up for the game. It's fun because it's stupid and pointless. But not if Harry is here. This can only end in a disaster.

"Alright," Carlos exclaims, "I thought of it, so I get to start," he looks around the circle of people, "hm, Luke. Truth or dare?" he smirks.

Luke who is sitting next to Ed, still wrapped in his big pink towel smirks back, "I'm not taking a dare from you. You're a creep," he says, "Truth."

"Boo," a boy with dark wavy hair and a baseball cap shouts, "you're a fucking drag, Hemmings." I pinch the bridge of my nose. I haven't seen that guy all night and I thought we were spared of him for once. He's the one person in this gang that I would like to smash my fist in their face repeatedly. I don't even know why he is still part of the Sharks. Probably only because of his little sister who is the complete opposite of him, sweet and respectful.

"Shut up, Nash. Nobody asked for your opinion," Michael shouts back.

"Even though he is right. You are boring for choosing truth first," Carlos says, pondering, "Alright. Luke Hemmings, here's your question. Do you enjoy smelling your own farts?"

Luke wiggles his eyebrows for comedy effect. "Revel in it!" he laughs.

"Yes! Up top, mate," Niall gets up to high-five Luke for the answer.

"I'll take Ash," Luke says without thinking, when Niall has sat down again.

"Dare," Ash answers with a smile.

Again, Luke doesn't have to contemplate long. "Come over here and massage my shoulders for the next three rounds," Luke smirks, already getting into a comfortable position and closing his eyes.

Ash smiles fondly, before he gets up to kneel behind Luke. While he starts rubbing his mate's shoulders, he looks around our faces to choose the next victim. When his eyes land on me, he stops and seems to hit upon an idea. "Louis," he says.

I sigh. I usually love this game as much as the next guy but right now, I'm just not up for it. "Truth," I grunt.

Ashton's triumphant smirk makes me regret it instantly. "Ha, you loser! That's what I was hoping for," he exclaims excitedly, "Do you fancy somebody?"

Okay. This is the big and bright idea he had? To ask me a standard question for the tweeny version of the game? As I contemplate whether to answer the question truthfully or lie, I realize that it can be simply answered with a yes or no. I clear my throat before answering "yes" while avoiding to look in Harry's direction.

Whistles and "ooh"s travel through the crowd and I try hard not to look too uncomfortable.

"And who is it, Louis?" Ashton yells from behind Luke. He has stopped massaging him and is only hugging him from behind by now. These two lads are some of the only males that I know who can behave like this without being judged.

I shake my head. "You just got one question, Irwin," I wink at him, though I feel the palms of my hands beginning to sweat. "Next one, Jesy," I call to avert the attention. Jesy is one of the Shark girls, she's feisty and a bit crazy. I like her but right now, I don't feel like thinking of something good. When she says "truth" I ask her the first question that comes to my mind. "Are you a virgin?" I ask. I'm not even interested in her answer and everybody knows it already, but I don't care. Even when people start complaining.

"No, I'm not, you moron," Jesy huffs with a disappointed expression on her face.

Jesy dares Jade to kiss the most handsome guy around, but it can't be Carlos. Jade chooses Ashton who sits back down in his old spot after the kiss.

"I'm going to murder you in your sleep, pal," Carlos mock threatens him.

"Hey, it wasn't my fault, mate," Ash replies, laughing and holding up his hands in surrender.

Jade walks back over to Carlos and sits down on his lap again. "Truth or dare, handsome," she murmurs at him.

"Dare," Carlos smirks confidently.

I can't hear the next thing Jade says, but a second later Carlos pulls her down and kisses her roughly.

"Ugh, that's just gross," Nash whines, "She just kissed Ashton. It's like now Ashton and Carlos are kissing. This is disgusting!" Oh yeah, did I mention that Nash can always make me feel like the trash of the universe for being... into guys.

"Yes, this _is_ gross," Perrie scrunches her nose, "But mostly because the thought of Jade and Carlos is just horrifying. Carlos! Stop and pick someone else."

He chooses Liam and asks him how long his last sex was ago. He doesn't even wait for the answer before he starts snogging Jade again.

The next half hour is spend with daring people to do shots or asking them about their private parts. I don't really pay attention. When Ashton picks me again, I make sure to stir clear of the truth option to avoid further unwanted questions from him. Michael makes Ed do the dougie, Ed makes Niall jump over the fire. When he almost falls into it, Beth runs over to him and tries to give him CPR which doesn't amuse Niall at all. When Niall pushes her aside, she stomps away and looks miserable for the rest of the game. The next time it is her turn, she picks Kim with a grim expression on her face.

"Truth," Kim chirps with a smile. She is sitting next to Harry which doesn't make it easy for me to avoid his look.

"Hm, Kim," Beth says between her teeth. She looks like she is about to kill somebody. "Is it true that you sometimes lick Louis' spoons before you wash them because you think that it's the closest you will ever get to snogging Louis?" At the end she smirks deadly.

Kim's eyes go wide in shock. Her whole face and neck adopts a deep red color which weirdly compliments her hair color. When she looks at me, I feel like I can see tears in her eyes. "That's..." she squeaks, "No, it's not true!" Her voice sounds even higher than usual. She looks completely humiliated. I shake my head and look away from her quickly. She didn't deserve that. As much as she annoys me all the time, this was too far.

"I think it is," Beth winks at her, "In fact, I know."

"Cut it off, Bethany," Perrie scolds her, "You're being a bitch."

"Let's end this," Ed suggests, looking at Kim.

But she just shakes her head and straightens her shoulders. "No, it's fine," she says, trying hard to keep her dignity, "I pick Ash."

After a few exchanged looks full of uncertainty, Ashton shrugs and answers, "Truth."

Kim doesn't ponder long, she clearly is just trying to get off the center of attention. "Hint us about the person around this camp fire that you would most like to have sex with," she says, putting on a brave smirk.

The Aussie almost looks sad for a second before he smiles and answers, "It's a blonde."

Zayn looks at his girlfriend and back at Ashton. "Stay away from my girl, dipshit," he mock snarls and protectively hugs a giggling Perrie to his chest. Ashton only winks at him.

When he looks around the camp fire to find the next person to choose, his eyes land on mine again. I roll my eyes and cross my arms in front of my chest. What is it with him today that he seems so interested in me? To my surprise his gaze moves on up until it lands on Harry. That's at least what I think before he speaks. "Kim, I'm giving you a chance here, choose wisely," he says solemnly.

Kim doesn't let her discomfort show as she looks back at him with a bored expression. "Dare," she says.

Ashton smiles sweetly. "Snog any one of us," he dares.

I can see some jaws fall around the camp fire. This isn't particularly an unusual dare for a normal game of Truth or Dare. But it is a little unexpected so shortly after Beth's last question.

Kim looks at me with wide eyes. It's obvious that she wants to come over and do the dare with me. To be honest at this point, I don't even care anymore. The game has sucked so far, the whole night has sucked so far. It can't get any worse, really. I smile at her weakly, before I notice and stop.

When I am sure that Kim is about to get up and walk over to me, she turns her head to Harry and smiles at him confidently. I don't really get what is going on, yet. Is she asking for his permission to kiss me first? Harry smirks back at her, and that's when I recognize this scene. The two of them are smirking at each other exactly the same way they have, the morning that they met. No fucking way.

"I hope you can deal with the chewing gum in my mouth," she smirks, her voice an octave lower than usual.

"Let's see who's got it after this," Harry winks at her, before leaning in and kissing her right on the mouth.

No _fucking_ _WAY!_

And _he_ is the one to lean into the kiss?! I can feel my hands curling into tight fists and the blood starting to race through my veins as I watch the two of them make out in front of everybody, both a cheeky smirk on their faces. They are clearly enjoying this. Harry puts his hands at her hips while Kim loops her arms around his neck before sliding onto Harry's lap. The view is making me feel sick to the stomach.

Everyone else is howling or whistling or cooing at them. And I can't look away from them. It's like a car crash. It's a horrendous view but there's no way to stop looking. After what feels like an hour of them sucking at each other’s faces, I see Ashton stop cheering at them, apparently to check my reaction. He looks at me and smiles pleased when he sees how furious I am. I groan in annoyance and jump to my feet. I glare at Ashton who seems to have planned this all along. His smile fades and is replaced by a guilty expression. "I'm sorry, man," he mouths apologetically. He honestly looks guilty but I don't care.

Instead of reacting to his poor apology, I turn around and leave the camp fire. This game is pathetic and boring, and all these kissing dares are the most pathetic thing about it. Ashton may have hoped to make me jealous but how can I be jealous if this game is such a stupid joke. I'm not jealous. They can suck off each other’s heads, for all I care. I don't care about Harry one bit. Not one.


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

**Harry's POV**

She's really good with her tongue. It's not too much, yet not too little. Both of us are constantly fighting for dominance while I keep my hands steady on her thighs to hold her on my lap. I can still feel her smirk, and occasionally see it when we look at each other while making out. If Louis really never kissed her, he is definitely missing out.

Liam acknowledgingly hits my shoulder and laughs when Kim and I break apart and she sits back down next to me, readjusting her dress which has traveled dangerously high up her thighs, during our little session.

While the others are still cheering and laughing, I realize that Louis has left. I look at his empty seat with a frown. Did he leave because the dare made him jealous? Maybe he isn't as uninterested in Kim as he made it look like. What if he likes her back after all?

The thought makes me want to apologize to him immediately. It also makes me want to grab Kim and throw her into the ocean when I think about the two of them ending up together.

"I think that's enough of Truth or Dare for tonight," Ashton says with a side-glance to Louis' empty spot between Niall and Zayn. So he has noticed, too.

"Oh come on, man," Carlos protests, "it's just starting to get interesting."

"Look at the positive side, Carlos. You can go ahead and snog Jade without anyone interrupting you with boring dares," Ashton winks. I think he wants to end the game because Louis left and he feels bad because he posed the dare.

"Yeah, I'm over it, too," Beth says with a grave expression on her face. I doubt that her mood will improve anytime soon.

When the first few people get up and leave the fire place, it is clear that the game is over. And I am glad. Now that Louis has left (most likely because of Kim) something heavy has settled on my shoulders and I feel like I want to be alone. So I get up, too, with the intension to go somewhere quiet and sulk a little. I don't even quite know what about but it doesn't matter. I know I shouldn't be going anywhere alone. I always have to stay with a captain, remember? But right now I don't care. I just want to be alone. However, before I can even leave the circle, Kim grabs my hand to keep me from leaving.

"Hey, where do you think you're going, handsome?" she asks and I can't help but let out a tiny groan of annoyance.

"Uh, I was just going to get us something to drink," I lie, giving her a plastic smile.

"Aww, Harry!" she chirps, "You're such a gentleman. But you know what, I'll just come with you," she gets up, taking my hand and beaming at me, "I know best what I want."

"I bet you do," I smile and start walking towards a small table next to an empty barbecue. It mostly holds the horrible tasting beer, but there is also some heavier stuff and some sorts of soda. While Kim goes for the beer, I decide to spare my tongue and go for a coke.

"What? You're not going to have a drink with me?" Kim asks when she sees the can in my hands.

"Nah, I'm not really in the mood to get drunk," I say and open the can, ignoring the girl's pout.

"I'm not talking about getting drunk," Kim explains, "I'm just talking about, you know... loosening up a bit." She loops her arms around my torso, her left hand clearly moving down towards my bum.

"You guys are already quite loosened up if you ask me," someone says from the other side of the table. It's a dark-haired boy with a base cap on his head. I've already noticed him during the game, in a negative way. He was being rude the whole time.

"From where I'm standing, you're already in the right mindset if you know what I mean," he winks.

"Bugger off, Nash," Kim rolls her eyes.

"That's what you're saying now," he says, seeming like it doesn't bother him at all, "now that Handsome is here. But I'll be good enough for your company again as soon as he's gone."

"He'll be around for a long time," Kim informs him.

"Will he now? Thought he didn't belong to you guys," Nash raises his eyebrows, looking at me quizzically.

"Well... he doesn't but he's staying with us for a while," Kim says and grabs for a bottle opener in the darkness.

"Lucky you, huh?" Nash smirks, taking his own bottle of beer.

"Oh yes, very lucky," Kim snaps, before beaming at me and snuggling back into my chest. I let her. I even loop my free arm around her. Out of instinct? Out of frustration? I don't know. When she smiles up at me, I can even feel myself smiling back. She has a nice smile. And even though she isn't the easiest person to hang out with, she's nice enough and she likes me. And right now her company is better than sulking somewhere alone.

"Hey, where's the bottle of tequila?" Nash wonders to himself, "I put it right there only an hour ago. It was supposed to be my treat tonight."

"I haven't seen any tequila bottles, today," Kim shrugs.

"Well then, beer it is," he grumbles while opening himself a bottle. "So, Harry, right?" he turns to me after he has taken a sip or two.

I only nod my head. For some reason, I don't feel comfortable talking to him.

"I heard you're a friend of Niall's," he says casually and I nod my head slowly. Why do I have to keep up with the lie again? "How did you meet him?" he asks.

I look down at Kim. "Um... I only met him a couple of weeks ago," I grunt, not knowing what to say.

Kim forces a laugh. "Yeah, Harry's parents kicked him out and he didn't know where to go. So when Niall met him, he offered him to stay with us for a while," she explains without blinking. If I didn't know the truth, I would have believed the lie. "Right, Hazza?” she smiles, putting her palm against my chest. Her fingers graze lightly over the skin that is showing because I didn't button it all the way up.

"Yea," I huff unenthused. One, I'm not exactly fond of her calling me Hazza, and two, did she honestly have to make it look like my parents _wanted_ me gone? Like they're glad that they haven't seen or heard from me in days. "But they'll take me back," I say firmly, "I'll be back home soon."

"I hope you will," Kim looks at me sincerely, before she smiles at me. She raises her hand to bury her fingers in the hair at the back of my neck, and pulls me down into a long, slow kiss. This one is a much more innocent kiss, and I let her kiss me without thinking about it twice. Like I said, she's a good kisser and frankly, right now I need a distraction. Any distraction. Kissing a random girl that I have no whatsoever feelings for at a party feels so normal. It almost makes me forget the past two weeks. But only almost.

"Hey, where's the tongue, Rimkim? You're kissing looked way hotter before you started with the dreamy-eyes," I hear Nash snicker after a while. He's still here watching us? What's wrong with him?

"Ugh, shut you're nasty mouth and jump in a lake or something! There," Kim hisses at the guy, pointing to the water, "There's a whole ocean for you to drown yourself in."

Instead of being offended, Nash only laughs. "Don't get you panties in a twist, babe. I was just commenting," he winks.

"Well, don't. Leave," she snaps.

"Hey hey.. hey," I say in a calming voice, smiling at her, "just don't listen to him."

She stares at me for a moment, mouth open, eyes wide, before she pulls me down against her lips again. This time, both of her hands disappear in my curls and she slips her tongue into my mouth again. I have no idea whether it is supposed to be a show for Nash or pure passion, but honestly I don't think it's the latter.

I can't really concentrate on the kiss when my mind suddenly slips over to what Beth said about Kim. Something like, she never snogged Louis. Isn't that weird? If you want to kiss someone, don't you just hope that you will kiss them? Why is the snogging part important to her? As the tip of her tongue grazes along my lips, I wonder if Louis and Kim maybe kissed before. Kissed, but not snogged. Innocent, tongue-less, sweet kisses. Maybe they tried it once or even dated when they were younger, but only pecked each other on the lips or something.

That thought doesn't sit well with me at all. The worst thing is that I begin to visually imagine the two of them being all loved-up; he just asked her out a few weeks ago and both of them are still too young and innocent to do anything than hold hands and kiss each other on the lips and giggle afterwards. It's weird that even this simple thought makes the air in my lungs turn thick and hot, but just to think that her lips might have touched his at some point in their lives makes me want to gag. I can't believe that I get so jealous over something that I made up in my own mind but the thought is just frustrating. I huff into the kiss in annoyance.

"Oi, Harry! Hold your horses," Nash laughs. He must have mistaken my huff with a moan, "Just be careful not to make her scream too loud when you thrust into her, later tonight. We have kids around here."

"Ugh, you're nasty, Grier," Kim yells, after I broke our kiss in fury.

I can feel my hands clenching into fists and my breath is speeding up. He is more than a rude person, he's disgusting.

I take a few deep breaths and roll my shoulders back to relax them, to try and keep myself from going off on him. I would hate to do that, this isn't me. So I turn my gaze away from him and pick up my drink from the table. "I think I'll go find Louis," I growl without looking at anyone.

"Louis?" Nash cocks his head in suspicion. "What's your deal with _him_? I thought you were Niall's friend."

I don't answer. I just want to leave but Kim tries to stop me by putting her palms against my chest.

"Besides, why would you leave a hot girl alone in the dark to go find another dude when you could be making out with said girl, instead," Nash continues. The smug grin he has been wearing all night has vanished from his face. He seems to be serious now. "What? Are you a fucking fag or something? Get your priorities straight, man. Hell, and pray that you're not a bender, for your own good," he shakes his head, "leaving a chick alone to run after another dude. Not faggy at all," he laughs in disgust.

Now I really can't help but boiling up, anymore. How rude can a person be? "What's your problem, pal? Do you realize how disrespectful it is, the way you talk about this girl? I don't care what you say about me, but don't fucking talk bad ab-"

"Harry," Kim interrupts me and pushes her hands against my chest forcefully, "let's leave, okay? Find something quite, somewhere we can be alone."

I still stare at the guy with narrowed eyes. When I allow Kim to take my hand and pull me away from the make-shift minibar, it is only because I realize that I am not myself right now. I usually don't get worked up like that. I'm actually glad to be getting away from him.

"He's always this rude," Kim says as we walk along the beach, further and further away from the camp fire, "Don't mind him. I don't even know why I got involved with him so often."

I raise my eyebrow at her comment but keep my mouth shut. I don't feel like talking anymore. Kim loops her arm around mine and nudges me lightly.

"Oh come on, lighten up," she laughs, "we had a pretty great time tonight if you blend out that prick, didn't we?"

I look at her smiling face, and once again feel my lips break into a smile, too. Her smile is just really contagious.

"Yeah, I guess," I smile back at her.

"See," she giggles and loops her arms completely around my lower torso, "now we can forget about him and find a place where we're alone," she moves one of her hands up and down my chest, "and where we can do some more of _this_ ," she almost whispers the last few words before she pulls me down into another kiss.

We continue walking along the beach, creating more and more distance between us and the others. Kim seems to have no intension of stopping to kiss me while we walk, and I don't mind. I tell myself that it keeps my mind off of other things.

"Hey," Kim giggles in between kisses, "let's go over there," she points to a lifeguard station in front of us which is built on top of about 8 food high poles to be safe of the flow, "The shadow under the hut will give us some privacy."

"So privacy is what you want, huh?" I mock her, tickling her sides and she screeches, squirms away from me, just to run into my arms and kiss me again. I really don't know why I'm kissing this girl so much tonight, but it just feels like the first normal thing I am doing since I was kidnapped. Making out with a girl at a party. And I need normal right now, especially because I haven't felt normal myself, lately.

We arrive at the lifeguard hut laughing and kissing, and hence, we don't realize the shadow behind one of the poles right away.

"Stop tickling me, Hazza, or I'll kiss you like-" Kim giggles, but stops short when her eyes catch on something behind me.

I frown at her in confusion, then turn around to find out what has caught her eye.

In the dark behind me, a clearly piss drunk Louis Tomlinson is leaning against a pole with one shoulder, a cigarette in one hand and an almost empty bottle of tequila in the other. His hair is disheveled and his eyes are hooded. Without looking at any of us, he raises the cigarette to his mouth and takes a long and slow drag, making the end glow in a red and orange color.

Only then, he looks up at me with an expressionless face. "Fancy seeing _you_ here, Styles," he says, before blowing the smoke of the cigarette in my direction.


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

**Harry's POV**

Kim looks at Louis with a thunderstruck expression on her face. "L-Louis?! What are you doing here?" she squeaks, sounding embarrassed. Almost shy.

Louis doesn't look at her. He keeps his eyes on me, at all times. "I was wondering exactly the same thing," he snarls and takes a sip of the bottle of tequila in his hand, "Were you trying to take off again?"

I feel completely dumbfounded by the question. As it happens, I haven't even thought of escaping once, since we got to the beach. "Wha-" I begin but Louis interrupts me.

"There was just one rule if you were to get out of that cell," he slurs and holds up one finger, "'Never walk around without a captain'. I don't see no captain anywhere around here, Styles."

"Chill, Louis," Kim rolls her eyes, "As far as I'm concerned, _you_ are a captain."

"Damn right, I am. Thank god I found you here," Louis says angrily.

"I wasn't trying to escape, Louis," I try to calm him down, but it doesn't work.

Instead an angry crease appears between his eyebrows and he nods his head. "Oh yes, I know. You were looking for a place to keep shoving your tongue down her throat," he spits and jerks his head in Kim's direction.

"As a matter of fact, yes!" Kim snaps, getting angry herself, "Now shoo."

"I sure has hell will not 'shoo'. I was here first," Louis replies, "And also, I need to talk to him. Alone."

"About what?" Kim challenges him.

"About him misbehaving," Louis grumbles through his teeth.

Kim burst into a high-pitched laughter. "You're a jerk, Tomlinson. And he didn’t misbehave. He wasn't even trying to leave," she defends me.

"I wasn't talking about that," Louis huffs under his breath, but I heard it.

Kim seemingly didn't. "What?" she asks.

"Just leave us alone, Kim," Louis rolls his eyes.

"No way, I'm trying to have a nice night," she replies, grabbing my arm as if trying not to be pulled away from me.

"I can see that," Louis scoffs disdainful, pushing himself off the pole, "And as much as I don't care about however you and Styles were planning to spend the rest of the night, I'm the leader. When I tell you to leave, you leave." Now that he doesn't have the support of the wooden pole anymore, he looks alarmingly unsteady on his feet.

"Since when do you use your leader card?" Kim seems perplexed.

"Since now," Louis shrugs.

"Well, it's too late now. Because I'm not going to listen to you," Kim says, with her head held high, before she turns to me, "Come on, babe, we'll find another place to be alone."

I look over to Louis. He looks back at me with angry eyes that are slightly glazed over. "Um, well..." I begin, lingering, "someone should probably stay here and make sure that he doesn't get into trouble," I tell Kim in an apologetic tone, "like getting the idea of going for a swim or something."

"Oh, he won't," the girl stops me with a wave of her hand. When I still keep my eyes on Louis in hesitation, she begins to pad my biceps with a pleading expression on her face, "Please. Please, come with me."

A cold grin spreads across Louis' face. "Yeah, Styles," he smirks, "Why don't you leave with her?"

I _hate_ that he keeps calling me Styles, just like in the beginning when he couldn't stand me. "I thought you didn't want me to leave," I say with as little emotion as I can manage.

"I don't care what you do," Louis replies, taking a last drag of his cigarette and dropping it into the sand.

"See," Kim says with hope in her voice, "he's okay with it."

"No! I'm not," Louis jerks his head up, "Harry is staying."

"What?" Kim looks at him puzzled. Louis seems awfully drunk. He doesn’t even make sense anymore. It just shows me how much he can’t be left alone right now.

"He's staying," Louis commands, "I have a bone to pick with him. Man to man."

"Harry, let's just leave. He doesn't know what he's talking about," Kim tries to convince me, "Please, Hazza."

Louis only snorts at that.

I still feel hesitant. I'm a little bit scared as to what he will do if Kim and I leave. And also, he _wants_ me to stay, and I can't ignore that. I can feel my heart beat increase. It gives me butterflies just thinking about it. I know it is stupid because he doesn't like me back. It’s obvious. And especially since he rejected me twice in one night, after we’d saved Zayn in the city. But nonetheless, I really want to be alone with him.

"No, I'll stay with him," I decide, "I'll make sure he's okay."

"But-" Kim pouts her lips, "what about me?"

"I'm sorry, Kim," I sigh, "But I can't leave him here alone."

"But you can leave me?" She doesn't seem angry, just sulky. She stands in front of me and loops her arms around me, "I could take good care of you, Harry," she smiles, before she presses a kiss to my lips, once again. This time, I don't respond. I don't even move one muscle. It feels wrong in front of Louis, and I can't help but feel guilty. Kim pulls away, an embarrassed expression on her face. She even looks hurt when she takes a couple of step back.

Louis burst into laughter. "Aww, nobody wants to kiss you, Kim," he chuckles, "Maybe you should go back to kissing spoons."

Kim's embarrassed expression turns into a shocked one, before she angrily flips around to look at Louis. "You're an arse, Louis! I hate you!" she screams and runs away from us, one single sob escaping her mouth before she is swallowed by the darkness.

Louis and I don't say a thing. We only stare at each other. That was so rude of him, but I can't make myself point it out. I'm just glad to be alone with him again. I take the time to examine him a little closer. His hair is as feathery as ever, his pupils seem dilated from the darkness and the alcohol. The black shirt he is wearing, is half-translucent and I can see his chest tattoos underneath. His tight black jeans show off his thick thighs and his lips are shining from what I'm guessing is the tequila that didn't exactly find its way into his mouth. He look so freaking hot. I can hardly keep myself from letting all guards down, shoving him against a pole and rutting myself against him like a 14 year old.

After what feels like minutes of simply starring at each other, Louis lifts the bottle in his hand and takes another sip of the liquid.

"You should put that away," I comment, pointing at the bottle.

"And why should I, Styles?" he replies.

"You've had enough of it," I tell him.

"Who are you to decide whether or not I've had enough," he spits and pointedly takes another big gulp, "Besides, the bottle wasn't even completely full when I took it." A hiccup escapes his mouth when he is finished.

"It was certainly full enough," I say, trying to stare him down but he doesn't move. "Give that to me," I say and take a few steps towards him, "Please, Louis."

Louis smirks as he sees me approaching. "And what will you do if I won't, Styles?"

I sigh, taking the last step before I'm standing directly in front of him. "Stop calling me that, Lou. Please."

"What? 'Styles'?" Louis snorts, "That's your name right? Do you want me to call you 'Hazza' like Kimberley does?" He laughs without joy.

Ouch. I look at him, feeling somewhat hurt. "No- you..." I stutter, before blurting, "It's not _Kim_ calling me that! _You_ call me Hazza and she is copying it. Hazza is _your_ nickname for me, not hers."

I look at him in anger and he stares back at me with wide eyes as if he didn't expect the outburst.

I take his moment of bafflement as an advantage for me. "Now, _please_ give me the bottle," I say under my breath. We both don't break eye contact even for a second while I slowly close my hand around the bottle and take it from him. He doesn't fight back. I drop the bottle into the sand where the rest of its contents seep out.

When Louis sees it, he groans in annoyance, "Oh come on, was that really necessary?"

"Who cares," I shrug.

"Of course, spoiled rich kid doesn't care if the tequila is wasted," Louis grows irritated again, " _He_ doesn't know how hard it is to get your hands on anything other than that piss beer!"

"Yes!" I growl, getting mad at his stubbornness myself, "Yes, the spoiled rich kid doesn't care about some stupid liquor! All I care about is that you're okay and survive the night without passing out because you have no idea of when to stop!"

"I _have_ an idea of when to stop! I just _chose_ to ignore it," he yells back.

"That's stupid, Louis!" I shout, "Dangerous and stupid."

"As if you'd care, jackass," Louis scoffs angrily.

I furrow my eyebrows in rage, and take a long, deep breath to calm myself. "Why are you so angry with me?" I frown, "Up until tonight, _I_ was the one being angry."

Louis scoffs once more. "Up until tonight?" he crosses his arms in front of his chest. "You didn't even want my peace offering when we left the cave."

"That was a peace offering? You didn't even say sorry," I huff.

"Sorry for what, Harry?" he spits.

"Sorry for-" I want to spit back but stop myself. That’s when I realize it. It would be hypocrite of me to blame him for pulling away when he didn't want to kiss me. He didn't really do anything wrong, come to think of it. It was his right to pull away. And anyways, it would be embarrassing to even talk about it.

"That's what I thought," Louis says, angrily turning his gaze away from me, “You just started being mad at me, a couple of nights ago. You didn’t even try to talk to me about it. And you know that you have no reason to be angry in the first place.”

"I had a reason," I tell him, "It's just a stupid one, so I don't want to talk about it." Louis doesn't react. The longer he seems to be ignoring me, the more enraged I can feel myself growing. "And why are we even talking about that night?" I burst out, "This has nothing to do with that night."

Suddenly his head snaps back up to look at me. "This has _everything_ to do with that night," he yells.

This statement takes me off guard. I can't seem to form a single thought while I stand there in front of him, speechless and puzzled. My heart sinks when I hear a voice in my head, telling me that he must be so angry because I tried to kiss him and he clearly didn't like that.

"God, Harry, you seriously don't get it, do you?" Louis groans.

"No, I don't," I frown.

He shakes his head in annoyance. "And instead of being friends with me again, you didn't even care and got in the car with Kim and spend _as little_ time with me as possible!" he says angrily, "First you become best buddies with Ed and then you are practically glued to Kim's lips for the rest of the night."

A pang of guilt shoots through me when I realize that his eyes have become even glassier in the last minute. "Look," I sigh sadly, "I'm sorry that I got involved with her. I didn't know you would care."

"I don't," Louis spits stubbornly.

"You don't?" I don't buy it for a minute, "And why are you piss drunk then, and practically spitting in fury?"

"Because I can't stand seeing you with her!" he yells at me.

"Lou, I'm sorry," I reaffirm apologetically, "You said you didn't like her and I thought you were telling the truth," I sigh, mumbling to myself, "What I did a few nights ago wouldn't have happened if I'd have known."

Louis narrows his eyes. "If you'd have known what?" he grumbles.

"That you're interested in Kim and not in..." I stop myself again, "She's yours. I never even wanted her."

"Shit, Harry!" Louis yells in anger, "I couldn't care _less_ about Kim!"

Can he stop yelling at me? I'm trying to talk this out. I can feel myself heating up again. "So what's your problem then?" I yell back at him.

"You are!" he shouts.

"Great!" I shout back, matching his voice, "So what's the point of keeping me around? Just let me go home then!"

"I can't," Louis screams, his eyes glistening in fury.

"And why is that?" I challenge him.

Louis looks at me for a moment, seeming to be pondering over something. "Because we've already come too far," Louis growls.

"That's bullshit, Louis!" I call him out, "And you know it! _Why can't you let me leave?!"_

I can see Louis' chest heave very fast while we stare each other down. His lips are parted from the heavy breathing because of all the shouting. He glares at me for a moment before a groan of frustration escapes his mouth.

"Ugh, you're so fucking clueless, Harry Styles!" he exclaims, taking one last step to close the distance between us and before I know it, his rough lips are angrily pressing against mine.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three

**Harry's POV**

I am gay. There's no doubt anymore. And boy, am I gay.

I think I knew ever since I met Louis. I was drawn to him even before I knew what he looked like. I was attracted to him even without seeing his movements and expressions. That was of course while I was still blindfolded. Even just his voice and his mere nature had me wrapped around his fingers in minutes. I just wasn't exactly sure what it meant at the time, and if I could trust my feelings. I never met somebody who was openly gay in my entire life. Nobody ever talks about it. I didn't know what to expect. Also, I was never in love. I never had these kind of feelings for anyone.

But now that the lips of this beautiful man are pressed against my own and I can feel his light stubble grazing my skin, I am a hundred percent sure of it. I am into men. And more specifically, into this amazing, sexy, reckless, funny, beautiful man.

His hands are still holding onto my face and neck while his fingertips are calmingly moving over my skin and through my hair. After the initial moment of shock, I have started responding to the kiss and grabbed onto his waist.

When he feels my response, he longingly takes my bottom lip between his teeth, drawing a pleasured sigh from my throat. Both of us are breathing heavily, still not completely recovered from all the shouting before. How did all this fighting and yelling result into _this_?

His tongue grazes over my bottom lip in the most delicious way and I know exactly was he wants, so I open my mouth slightly and allow his tongue to enter. He grunts in pleasure and pulls me closer to him, making me lose my balance for a moment. I take a quick step to catch myself and kick against something solid on the ground. At first I don't even care because the tip of his tongue plays with mine like we have done this our entire lives, making my head feel dizzy. But when I realize that the object next to my foot is the empty tequila bottle, I remember how drunk Louis really is.

My eyebrows furrow in distress when I make myself pull away, and there's a sinking feeling in my stomach when I look at Louis again, seeing how drunk he looks.

"What's wrong?" Louis asks, still holding onto my cheeks. His lips are swollen and shiny from the kissing, making him look even sexier than he already looked before the kiss.

"I can't do this, Louis," I grunt in disappointment. This moment was too good to be true.

"You can't do this?" Louis repeats in confusion.

"You're drunk, Lou," I sigh, mindlessly caressing his waist with my hands.

"So?" he slurs, leaning in again but I stop him.

"No. Lou, you're wasted. You have no idea what you're doing here," I tell him and hate myself every second of it, "you're probably not even going to remember this, tomorrow."

"But it feels _so gooood_ ," he whines, pressing himself closer to me.

"I know, baby," I groan with a pained expression on my face, "I know, but I don't want to kiss you if you can't even remember it, tomorrow."

"I can! I will. I promise," he says, but his eyes are focused on my lips and I know he's just saying it to reassure me.

"I'm sorry, Lou," I murmur, "I want to, believe me. Shit, I want you so bad. But I know I will be hurt tomorrow if you can't remember and I can't risk that."

"But... but..." Louis pouts. His lips look so kissable like that.

"Shit, don't do that, Lou. You're driving me crazy," I groan, my eyes focusing on his lips.

Louis smirks devilishly. "What? The pouting?" he asks and pouts again, just for show, "Well, try and stop me, wanker."

I only glare at him while he doesn't stop pushing his lips out with an evil glint in his eyes.

"God, I'm going to make you regret this so hard, tomorrow," I groan lowly, "I'll get you home safely and tuck you to bed and cuddle you all night. And tomorrow when you're sober, I'll make you moan my name so loud that everybody will hear."

"Fuck," Louis whispers, pressing his crotch against me and I gasp.

While my mind is still focusing on his obvious bulge pressing against mine, Louis takes the opportunity to start kissing me again. His tongue still tastes like the strong liquor he's been drinking all night. It's so damn hot, I can feel all my blood rushing into my groin. But at the same time I know how wrong it is while he's so far from being sober. But before I can even think about pulling away again, I hear someone chuckle behind Louis.

Both of us break apart in an instant, Louis jumping at least 3 feet away from me. I feel caught but Louis looks horrified when he flips around to look at the intruder.

It's the bandana kid Ashton standing at the edge of the shadow under the life guard station, smirking at us with a pleased expression on his face.

"So my plan worked out after all," he smirks with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"It's not-" Louis squeaks but Ashton interrupts him.

"It's not what it looks like?" he scoffs in amusement, "So you were just sticking your tongue into his mouth for scientific reasons?"

Louis looks baffled, lost even, instead of answering.

"This is golden," Ashton snickers, "I'm so proud of myself. You can thank me later."

"No, no!" Louis pleads, "No this doesn't mean anything. This isn't real."

There's a stabbing pain in my chest when I hear Louis' words, but at the same time I feel worried about him. If you ask me, he is completely overreacting. Yes, people are horrible when it comes to anything gay related but Ashton seems totally chill about it.

"Oh, it looked real to me, Tommo," Ashton laughs obliviously, "I knew it. I knew you two had something going on as soon as I heard Harry talk about you, and saw you staring at him all jealous and possessive."

"No! I'm not gay," Louis shouts, "I'm not! You're wrong."

"Lou," I say quietly and take a step closer to him to try and calm him down, but he flinches away from me.

"Of course you're not," Ashton winks.

"No," Louis pleads, "I'm not... Don't hit me! Please, I promise I'm not into guys. That's disgusting. I couldn't-"

"Lou!" I say loudly now, making him look at me, "stop it. Nobody is going to hurt you."

Louis keeps looking back and forth between me and Ashton for a while, his mouth open as if he was about to protest again. He doesn't seem convinced.

"Dude, it's alright. I'm not going to beat you up for snogging the new guy," Ashton jokes but his tone is serious, "I get it, he's hot."

"He's most definitely- what?!" Louis gasps in shock when he processes Ashton’s words. He seems pretty slow under the influence of the tequila.

Ashton smirks at me and I can feel myself blush. How can I have not known that I am gay when I get flustered every time a cute guy so much as winks at me?

"He's..." Louis begins, looking at me with a frown, before his eyes flicker over to Ashton's smirk, "don't look at him like that!" he blurts and steps in front of me, touching my forearm with his hand behind his back.

"There you go," Ashton laughs, "you're such a protective and jealous boyfriend, it's cute."

Louis instantly releases my arm again. "It's not cute. There's nothing there to be cute. Why are you saying these things?" he says, his voice sounding a lot calmer by now but still somewhat panicked.

"Lou," I whisper, looping my arms around his waist and resting my open palms on his tummy. To my surprise he doesn't pull away. "Can't you see that Ashton is okay with it?" I hum into his ear, nosing his hair lightly, "Don't worry, you'll be fine."

Louis doesn't react for a while. I keep grazing my lips along his neck, occasionally pressing them against his soft skin while Louis studies Ashton's face.

"But... why?" Louis says after a while.

"Why what?" Ashton wonders.

"Why? Why are you okay with this?" Louis whispers brokenly, "Why are you not already beating me up and humiliating me?"

The sound of his voice hurts me more than I thought possible. What happened to him in the past that he's so afraid of even his friends knowing that he is gay.

"Because you're my friend," Ashton says, looking somewhat puzzled, "and because I think differently about this topic than others."

"Oh," Louis murmurs, allowing himself to lean his back into my chest. "How come?"

Ashton shakes his head with a smile. "You didn't listen to me at all tonight, did you?" he says, "I've been in love with a guy for at least two years now."

"Pardon?" Louis says, his usual tone slowly coming back.

"Shocker, I know," Ashton shrugs, "good to know I'm not the only one with these kinda feelings anymore."

A smile creeps onto my lips at Ashton's words. Suddenly I feel like I'm in a secret club and Louis is right there with me. I pull him even closer into my chest and nestle my nose into the crook of his neck, taking in his intoxicating scent. I can't help releasing a relieved giggle when Louis leans into my touch.

"You guys are killing me," Ashton smiles after a while.

Louis turns his head to look at me and smiles. His eyes look so gentle and breathtakingly beautiful, it makes my heart flutter.

"Does anybody else know about this?" Ashton pulls us away from our moment.

I look at him and shake my head.

"But you can't tell anyone!" Louis says in slight horror, "Please, Ashton. Nobody can know."

The Shark Head looks at me in confusion before he shrugs and nods his head. "I promise," he assures Louis, "I won't tell anybody. I know how it feels. I haven't told anybody about me either... until now," he smirks, "but I guess we're all in the same boat, right? You're secret's save with me."

"It better be," Louis huffs, "or else you're secret's out, too."

"Woa, no need for hasty threats, Tommo," Ashton raises his hands in defense, "I am a gay man living in this world, too. I know what it's like. I won't expose you."

"Relax, babe," I whisper into Louis' ear, lightly petting his soft, cute tummy until his breath seems to calm down again.

"Alright guys, as much as I'd love to give you some more privacy and let you guys... you know," a smirk creeps onto Ashton's lips, "do your thing, if the two of you are gone for too long and come back on your own, it might seem a bit suspicious."

I huff in disappointment and press one last kiss onto Louis' shoulder before releasing him from my embrace.

On our way back to the others, Louis puts his arm around my waist and protectively pulls me close to him, making me feel so save and warm.

I honestly can't wrap my head around the things that happened tonight. It was like a roller coaster ride with a big and completely thrilling finale. This man next to me drives me completely insane. He surprises me over and over again. I can seriously not predict him at all. There is so much I have learned about him since I've met him and the most wonderful thing is that I know that there is so much more to learn.

I cannot wait for tomorrow, waking up beside him. I can't even begin to imagine what will happen. I just want to kiss him again. Touch him, feel him. My heart beats so fast against my rip cage at the thought of it.

"We're almost there," Ashton says when we're only about 150 feet away from the camp fire, "You'd better let go of each other."

I sigh when Louis softly kisses my temple before detaching his arm from my waistline. I hate this. I really do. But it's okay because I can't wait for what is to come, tomorrow.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Four

**Harry's POV**

"Woa Louis, what happened to you?" Liam asks when we sit down by some of the others, "You're getting drunk without me now?"

"Actually Payno, yes because you're a drag. So deal with it or go home crying," Louis jokes with slurry words.

"Well, at least you can still manage to be sassy even when you're wasted like that," Liam laughs.

"It's a gift," the boy next to me winks. Our legs are touching and I am very certain that he is doing it on purpose, which I don't mind at all.

"So, what have you guys been up to while you were gone?" Zayn asks off-handedly.

Louis and I look at each other. Even in the dim light, I can see his face pale up a bit. I smile at him encouragingly and bump my knee against his.

"Oh, you know," Ashton chips in, "we found out just how good I am at manipulation. What were you guys up to?"

"We were just talking about Zayn's desperate drive for self-destruction," Calum jokes.

"Manipulation?" Louis asks Ashton quietly, ignoring Calum, while the others start bantering noisily.

"Well, I kinda manipulated you guys into... you know... when I dared Kim to kiss one of us, I expected her to kiss you," Ashton shrugs with a low voice, "I was hoping to get Harry jealous too, because _you_ were already full on jealous by then, pal," he snickers mischievously, "So when Kim kissed Harry instead, I thought my plan had backfired," he pauses to look at both of us, failing to suppress a smile, "but I guess it did work out in the end, didn't it."

"Oh, shut up and stop with that proud grin," Louis grunts unamused.

"So what are we going to do about those sewer rats now?" Michael asks just as we start listening to the others again, referring to the Creepers apparently.

"Don't call them that," Niall says with a frown, "That's what got us into all this mess in the first place."

"Ey, Nialler, I told you that I only want you smiling the whole entire night, remember?" Luke who sits next to him pads him on the back.

"And what do you think will happen?" Nash says with a bored expression on his face. So _he_ is here, too. Joy. "I don't think anyone of us is going to run to other gangs and give them info that would hurt us."

"True. But alright, what are we going to do about the Creepers?" Michael rephrases his question.

Liam shrugs. "Nothing for now," he says, "let's just hope they're too wounded right now to crawl out of their hole any time soon."

"'Specially now that we won't have Niall with the popo anymore, right?" Louis slurs, yawning excessively. It's amazing that he can still follow the conversation. He looks wasted and tired.

"What? What do you mean not with the police anymore?" Ed raises his head, "I thought he joined to increase your chance on somewhat controlling them. In case one of us gets arrested or something."

The Sparrow captains look at each other knowingly. I know the answer, too. Niall told me while we were hanging out. He initially joined the cops to monitor them 24/7 while I am their hostage. Now that the plans have changed, Niall is more than happy to quit the job. Before the silence becomes too suspicious, Liam answers calmly. He seems to be the one who is good with words. The one who answers the tricky questions and cleans up the mess behind the other boys. "We simply need him at home more than at the police station right now. I can manage the cops on my own."

Ed cocks his head to the side in suspicion. "That sounded entirely different just a few months ago," he says, "You were pissing your pants at the thought of Niall not getting the job."

"I wasn't pissing my pants," Liam frowns but seems unable to come up with a better explanation.

"Come on, what is this really about?" Ed presses, "you guys know that we _all_ depend on your influence with the cops to some extent, right? I don't see one good reason to have Niall quit if it is as tricky to keep them in check as you made it look like three months ago."

"There's nothing," Liam assures Ed, "I guess I just got it wrong back then."

Ed looks at all of the Sparrow's faces one by one. "Oh come on," he throws his hands up impatiently, "you don't have to keep secrets from us. We're a team. We're friends. Since when do we keep secrets?"

Liam looks at Louis in question. The leader of the Sparrows seems to ponder for a second, before rolling his eyes and shrugging one of his shoulders. "Whatever, go ahead," he mumbles and leans his upper body subtly against my side. I don't think he realizes it himself, his body is simply getting heavier with fatigue.

"Um, alright," Liam clears his throat, his eyes flickering over to me, "Well, honestly, the reason why we needed Niall for extra support at the police station was not because of our regular gang activities. It was rather because of irregular gang activities."

"Stop with the unnecessary suspense and spill, Payno," Calum cuts in.

"Yeh, sorry," Liam clears his throat again. He is definitely not completely convinced that telling the secret is a good idea. "So, we needed the extra support at the police station because we had the plan of kidnapping a rich person and demanding ransom money. We all know we could use the money, right? But yeah, that plan kinda got put on pause, so now we don't necessarily need Nialler anymore at the police st-"

"Wait, wait! What?!" Ed interrupts Liam, clear shock in his voice. "You planned on kidnapping someone?"

"It's not that weird for a gang, Ed," Zayn says.

"Yeah, not for _a_ gang, but it is for yours," Ed argues, "Do you guys realize how high profile this is? What happened to staying out of all the messy stuff?"

"That's why we needed Niall as a backup," Liam explains.

Ed shakes his head. "I'm not sure if I like it," he says, "God, imagine! Especially the kidnapping itself will be so dangerous. What if somebody catches you right then and there?"

Zayn chuckles. "You're too late with your worries, man. It has already been done. And quite professionally may I add," he smirks.

"You already kidnapped someone?!" Michael almost yells in excitement. Much unlike Ed, he seems to be 100% on board with the "kidnapping some rich dickhead" plan.

"Yeah well, that's when Harry here comes into play," Liam says, gesturing towards me without looking my way.

I can see several Shark jaws in the group hit the ground. Nobody says anything at first, but all eyes are on me.

"Come again," Ashton speaks first, "Harry is your hostage," he summarizes Liam's monologue.

"Yes," Liam confirms.

A single chuckle escapes Ashton's mouth before he looks to me and Louis. "So... so, this is how you two know each other," he directs his question directly at us, making me feel extremely uncomfortable, "You are the hostage," he says pointing at me and then at Louis, "and you are the captor."

When Louis doesn't react, I give my head a jerky nod. "Yeh-yeah, I guess so," I mumble, looking at my hands.

Ashton looks back and forth between me and Louis once more before bursting into hysterical laughter, and actually starting to sing, "Baby look what you've done to me!" before resuming to laugh until there are actual tears in his eyes.

Everyone else looks at him weird since they have no idea what happened by the life guard hut, tonight.

Louis' face on the other hand is screaming annoyance. With a deadly expression on his face, he swats his hand against the back of Ashton's head to make him stop but it doesn't have an effect. Ashton presses his hand over his mouth which does not help to stop the silent laughter.

"What's so funny?" Calum wonders.

"Yeah, dipshit," Louis snarls through his teeth, "what's so funny?"

"Nothing," Ashton chuckles, ducking his head, "nothing, man. 'M just _really_ surprised, is all."

"Well, try to be a little less surprised, will you?" Louis grumbles.

"Sorry, man," Ashton says, still chuckling.

"So," Michael says in a loud voice, clearly confused about what this was all about, "why don't you just keep Niall with the cops as a back-up?"

"No need," Liam shrugs, then looks over to the blonde kid, "and I guess he's quite happy to leave now... after what happened."

"Hm, but wouldn't that look suspicious?" Luke throws in, "I mean we all know that he was a literal superhero that day when he saved Louis' life," he smiles at Niall proudly," but if he quits the job now... I don't know, it might seem like it was more than defense. Seems like he is running or something."

"I'm not though," Niall furrows his eyebrows in irritation.

"I know, mate. I'm just thinking about what others might think," Luke says calmly.

"Well, at first our plan was for Niall to stay with the police, anyway," Zayn chips in, "he was gonna take Liam's place."

"Liam's?" Ed asks, "And where would _he_ go?"

"To work for the government," Liam answers uninterested, "but we're not doing that. I know nothing about politics."

Michael burst out laughing. "Wow, the government is just the place one of us wants to be, right? They're our best friends if you will," he scoffs, "there is not one decent person working for the government. We wouldn't be where we are otherwise."

"But that's exactly why we could use Liam there," Zayn says, looking at Liam as if to try and make him rethink his decision.

"Yeah, that's what I was saying," Louis agrees with hooded eyes, "Liam's the man. You're the man, Liam." I am not sure if he was done talking, but a huge yawn interrupts him there. I can't help but laugh at him and run my hand along his back gently which makes him sigh in content.

"I'm not, Tommo," Liam laughs, "I really am not. But that's okay because we can't change things around here anyways."

Ed shakes his head at that. "I don't think so, actually," he hums, "there is so much that needs to be changed. And you could be our best shot, to be honest. You're good with words. You could make people listen and believe in what you say."

"That's exactly what I was thinking earlier," I say without meaning to.

Calum looks at me sideways. "What do you care? You have everything, right? Why do you care about our stuff?" he asks. He sounds genuine, not offensive.

"Because he cares," Louis blurts, "he cares, okay? A lot. He's not some arrogant arse or something. He's nice."

While I can feel my cheeks go pink at Louis' words, Ashton begins to laugh again.

"Have you quite finished?" Louis snaps at him.

Ashton raises his hands in mock surrender but continues to laugh.

"Alright," Ed clears his throat in discomfort, "so bottom line is... it wouldn't be a bad idea if you gave it a try, Liam."

"I can't just burst into the government doors and take over the place," Liam still hesitates, "I won't get a position in which I can change things just like that."

"But that doesn't matter Li," Zayn tries to persuade him, "any position is better than none."

"Yeah, I think you can do it," Ashton agrees.

"I..." Liam begins, hesitating, "what about Niall. He doesn't have to stay with the police if he doesn't want to."

"That's okay, Liam," Niall shrugs, "the others are right. It could be important."

"Yes! There you go, Payno," Louis yawns, "now can we end this boring discussion?"

Liam rolls his eyes but laughs. "Alright, who's up for a round of Ring of Fire?" he asks, retrieving a stack of cards from his pockets.

There rest of the night is spend with the drinking game until most of the others are as drunk as Louis and the sky begins to slowly brighten up again in the east. At some point Perrie appears and suggests to go back home. Her and Beth are the two who have to drive the cars back because they seem to have had the least alcohol tonight.

On the car ride, Louis and I have the back seats to ourselves because Kim has apparently decided to spend the night with god knows whom of the Shark Heads. Louis' eyes have been practically closed for the past hour at the beach. I didn't let him join the drinking game. He definitely had enough for one night. I place his head on my lap and pet his hair in worry that he might throw up.

Back in the cave I guide him to his room and push our mattresses together while he gets rid of his pants. Only his pants. He keeps his shirt on. So I do the same and only get rid of my tight jeans.

"'M exhausted," Louis sighs as he throws himself face-first onto the bed.

"I can tell," I chuckle and crawl in next to him. Without hesitation, he slumps himself on top of my chest, grabbing my shirt between his fingers.

His face is buried into the crook of my neck when I hear him chuckle. "I will remember tonight, you know," he hums, "you said you're scared that I won't remember, but I will remember. I always do."

I smile with my face pressed against the top of his head. "We'll see," I whisper and kiss his hair, "sleep tight, Lou."

"Goodnight, Hazza," Louis mumbles against my skin.

After only a minute of silence, I suddenly feel his lips plant a few shallow but soft kisses all over my collarbone, before he yawns one last time and immediately starts snoring in content.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Five

**Louis' POV**

The first thing I realize when I wake up the next morning is the obnoxious pounding in my head. Ugh, I'm never drinking alcohol ever again. Ever!

The second thing I realize is the warmth. Usually, when I get up in the morning it is somewhat chilly in my room because the fire has had time to die down at night. This morning, I only feel warm and cozy. My head is lying on top of someone's chest which is calmly lifting and lowering in a steady rhythm. I immediately know that it is Harry. It must be him.

Nevertheless, I open my eyes to check. When I see Harry's shirt and his tattooed arms, I run my fingertips all the way from his shoulder down to his wrist in amazement. How did I get this lucky? I tilt my head up slightly to look at his face. His eyes are closed while his mouth has fallen agape during sleep. I am so close to him that I can see the tiny hairs on his upper lip.

A silly smile creeps onto my lips when I realize that I have just woken up in Harry's arms. It only takes me a second to remember how we even got here. Of course I remember. Like I said, I always do. And how on earth could I ever forget last night. I remember it all. I can still feel it; his lips against mine, his strong arms holding me steady because I was too drunk to hold my balance. It was hot, too. God, it was hot. I remember his little moans into my mouth and his hard-on pressing against mine, only separated by two layers of.... "Oh, shit," I whisper, quickly move my lower body away from Harry and bury my face in his shoulder. Note to self: Don't reminisce last night's events too graphically if you are pressed against Harry Styles.

I keep my head on top of his chest, and maybe, maybe I even place a kiss or two on top his shirt. I can’t believe that he kissed me last night. Well, I kissed him, but he kissed back. Twice. I just don’t get why he likes me. Me! I'm moody and mean and stubborn and... and a guy.

I run the fabric of his shirt through my fingers while I recall what actually happened there last night. I know it was wrong. I _promised_ myself to never go there again, even if that means that I won't ever have a love life, or even sex life, ever again. I'm sure I could try with women again. Although I know that it's not what I want, but in the end sex is sex, right?

I'll just have to savor this moment for as long as I can. I know it'll be over as soon as Harry wakes up. But until then, I can let myself enjoy his arm around me and his heartbeat next to my ear. When Harry wakes up, everything can go back to normal again, nobody needs to know what happened last night at the beach. Wait. Except for Ashton, he knows. He's _seen_ us. I let out an annoyed groan at the thought of having to deal with his sarcastic jokes and not-so-subtle pokes at me and Harry.

Suddenly, I feel Harry stir beneath me. Did I wake him up? Please, no. I don't want this to be over. I keep as still as I can and hope that he falls back asleep but I am unlucky.

"Good morning, sunshine," his raspy voice mumbles, still thick with sleep. I can hear that he is smiling. He pulls me closer, running his hand up my back.

At the feeling, I jump to my feet in no time. "What?" I squeak when I notice that I have no pants on and my morning problem hasn't completely gone away yet. I grab my pants and pull them on quickly.

"Louis?" Harry says in confusion, before he raises his eyebrows. "Oh... you don't remember, do you?" His voice sounds disappointed.

Instead of answering, I zip up my jeans. My eyes are burning. Why can't this all be easy? Why am I not allowed to just have him? I want him. I want to wake up next to him and be kissed good morning, and cuddle with him before getting up. I want it to be like that. But why does this have to be complicated? Why does it have to be this unfair?

Harry sits up on the bed. "I should've known. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

I scoff. "Ha, well that you did," I mumble without looking at him.

"I'm sorry, Louis. I just hoped you'd remember. You said you would remember," he rambles, already getting flustered. He gets up from the bed, getting dressed himself. "You know,” he begins carefully, “last night... something happened," he lowers his voice "...and I really liked it."

"I remember, Harry," I sigh, trying to focus my attention on lighting a torch.

"You do?" the boy behind me says, sounding hopeful.

I close my eyes momentarily, wishing this whole situation would simply disappear. I don't want to do this to him. He doesn't deserve to wake up to a jerk ruining his mood, but I know that it has to be done.

"Look," I begin, "what I remember is that I was piss drunk and angry and impulsive... and drunk. You know. That state in which you do all sorts of weird stuff?"

"...but, you remember... everything?" Harry looks hit when I turn around to him.

"Unfortunately," I mumble.

"Oh..." Harry hums, turning away from me to step into his shoes.

"H," I sigh, "just because we- you know..." I pause. I feel horrible about how I am treating him right now. I hate myself for it, more than I already did before. I know I'm despicable. But I'm doing this because I know what's best for the both of us. I've _been_ with other guys. I've known that I am gay since I was just a teenager. I've been exposed to what others think and do to gay people. I'm doing this to protect us. Both of us. Especially him. Better some random dude being a jerk to him once than the whole world making his life miserable for the rest of his life. "...what happened last night doesn't mean that I- it doesn't mean anything," I grumble.

"Oh, okay," I hear his voice, "I see." I wish I could see his face but he is still circuitously getting into his shoes. I get the feeling that he doesn’t want me to see his face.

"I mean, I was confused and horny and drunk,” I say, not sure who I am trying to convince, “It could've happened to anyone.”

"Hm..." Harry says and finally turns around again. He looks angry. Angry is good. Better than sad...

"Best if we just forget about it," I continue without knowing why, "Was just some drunken, stupid thingy that we did... which meant nothing, right? I mean to the both of us. Equally. Nothing."

"I get it," Harry presses the words out through his gritted teeth. "We don't have to talk about it anymore."

"I mean, it was probably just something like a habit, anyways," I ramble on without paying attention to him. I really feel myself getting worked up about the whole thing, "Randomly kissing someone at a party. Just a habit, right? I mean, it can't have been a good kiss, either. Not for _you_ , that's certain. Like for one, I was so wasted, I probably didn't even know how to move my lips properly, am I right," I snicker nervously, "and two, I mean come one, how can you have enjoyed the kiss? Like... I'm a guy-"

"Shut up!" Harry burst out in anger, "Just stop talking about it."

I stop short, looking at his angry face with wide eyes.

"If you need to come up with some weird reason as to why you didn't like the kiss, that's fine. Go ahead! But don't make me say that I didn't fucking love kissing you and that I wouldn't do it again right at this moment if your head wasn't up your ass right now," he says in fury.

I can only look at him shell-shocked. I have never heard him use words like that.

"Lie to yourself all you want," he mumbles as he walks past me, "Don't expect me to do the same."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Liam's POV**

"Here we are," Niall gestures to the tall building in front of us, "Better go inside on your own."

The government building is one of the few shining and beautiful buildings in the city. It's at least 25 stories high and everyone coming out or walking into the building is wearing suit and tie. All I could do was dress in my best clothes for the interview since I don't have a suit. But still, I feel out of place in my dark jeans and simple black t-shirt.

"Thanks for coming with me," I smile at Niall.

"Hey, you look more important if you have a police escort," he winks, pointing at his full uniform.

"Or maybe I look more like a criminal," I laugh, "But thanks, man."

He pats my shoulder before I walk over to the entrance and step into the foyer. There's a dark haired woman in her mid-thirties behind the reception, pursing her red lips in obvious boredom.

"Hi, I'm here for a job interview with Mr. Griffiths," I say when I stand in front of her.

When she looks up at me, I can practically watch her demeanor change. "Oh, is that so?" she smiles at me, leaning her upper body over the table, "A handsome man like you will certainly get any job he wants, don't you think?"

"Uh, thanks," I say, feeling awkward.

"If you want me to call through to Mr. Griffiths, I would need your number, please," she purrs with twinkling eyes, already pushing her notebook over to me.

I furrow my eyebrows. "No, that's okay, thanks," I say. Why would she need my number to call someone else? Also, I don't have a phone, but it's better if she doesn't know.

She looks at me in disappointment. "Fine," she says in a clipped tone, "Room 325, third floor. Anything further will be handle by Mr. Griffiths' secretary."

I politely nod my head at her and make my way through the long and beautiful corridors of the building. I try to go through the things that I want to say during the interview. I still feel silly even agreeing to this. I will only embarrass myself, I'm not made for the job.

Room 325 has an anteroom. The door is standing wide open, so I entre it cautiously. It's empty. I expected the secretary to sit behind the desk on the left side of the small room, but I am alone. There is a blazer hanging over the chair behind the desk though, meaning the owner can’t be far away.

I have no idea what to do now. Do I wait here? Do I just go knock the door of Mr. Griffiths' office myself? I catch sight of the door and realize that it is slightly opened. He must be in there. Maybe I can just go enter without waiting for the secretary.

As I walk closer, I can hear voices from the other side of the door. Someone is definitely in there. Just as I am about to knock, I get a glimpse of the scenario behind the door. There are two people inside the room. A man in his 50s and a girl. I can only see her long, brown hair because she is standing with her back against the table, facing the man. I'm guessing it is Mr. Griffiths. What makes me stop in my tracks is the sight of how close Mr. Griffiths is standing to the girl. There is no business distance between them. Before I can turn around and give the two of them their privacy, I realize how the girl distinctively leans away from him. Her arm is twisted in his hand and there is an angry expression on the man's face.

"You know what has to be done with sloppy little girls, don't you?" he huffs and places an open mouthed kiss on her jawline. The girl turns her head away immediately, but she doesn't scream nor fight against it. When he grabs her blouse to rip it open, I quickly open the door and knock on the door frame to make myself noticed.

The girl shrieks and jumps away from the man as he lets go of her.

"I'm sorry? Is something wrong?" I say, entering the room, feeling irritated about the whole situation. I can’t show my dismay openly since I want the job, but I can’t just watch him do god knows what to the girl.

Mr. Griffiths looks like he isn't uncomfortable about being caught at all. "No, nothing is wrong," he laughs and shamelessly smacks the girl's bum which makes her wince but she simply moves away without complaining.

"You must be Mr. Payne. Please come in," he says although I'm already inside. Then he turns to the girl again, "I am sure, next time you will remember how to organize my files, won’t you, Ms. Smith?"

The girl jerkily nods her head without looking at anyone and takes a couple of folders off the desk. As she starts to walk away, the top folder slights off the pile, making dozens of loose sheets fly to the ground.

"Oh, shoot," she says under her breath, quickly crouching down to pick them up again.

Without thinking about it twice, I crouch down next to her and start gathering some of the files.

"Oh, there's no need, Mr. Payne," I hear the man’s laughter from his spot behind the table.

The girl looks at me in surprise. Something about the green in her big wide eyes makes me completely forget about the presence of the third person in the room. I hand her the sheets that I have picked up and catch myself staring at her lips when she speaks.

"Thanks," she whispers, still looking horrified and surprised at the same time.

"You're welcome," I whisper back, helping her up, "I'm Liam."

"Sophia," she says quietly before leaving the room without looking back again.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Six

**Liam's POV**

"That really wasn't necessary," Griffiths says when we both sit down on opposite sides of his huge desk.

I'm still angry about what I've just witnessed but I try my best to hide it behind a polite voice and plastic smile. Of course I know that these things happen every day in our city, but knowing and seeing seems to be a big difference.

"That girl is good for nothing," the politician continues, "well, she's good for _one_ thing obviously," he laughs like he just cracked some hilarious joke, "and she's something for the eye too, don't you think? So basically, I am forced to keep her."

"Forced, Sir?" I narrow my eyes but spread my lips into another smile. I can feel my pulse speed up in anger at his words. I'm a little surprised of how protective I feel over the girl even though I've just met her.

"Mr. Payne," Griffiths laughs, "I may be a successful politician and powerful investor of over twenty companies in this city alone, but I am also just a man. You know what that is like," he winks at me, "especially when your wife hasn't looked nearly this fit in at least two decades."

"Well no, Sir, I wouldn't know what that is like," I try to respond to him as neutral as possible. I still want the job. Maybe more than ever, now.

"Oh yes," Griffiths lifts his hands and nods his head, "Your wife is probably around your age, isn't she?"

Ah yeah, my wife. She's on my résumé of course. "Yeah," I fake a laugh, "She's only 20 years old."

"Still so young," the old man mumbles in thought, making me want to gag, "And so are you, right? I've read your résumé and the recommendation by your superior Mr. Gifford. Impressive career for such a young man. Mr. Gifford seems very pleased with your work."

"Thank you," I smile politely.

"He offered you a job as his deputy before you left?" He looks at the recommendation letter in front of him.

"Yes, Sir. He did," I confirm.

Griffiths nods his head in approval. "Impressive," he repeats, "But why did you not take the offer?"

"I have seen many things during my time as a police officer," I begin to explain even though these words are obviously rehearsed and not exactly the truth, "Bad things, unfairness, distress. I have started to form ideas and came to the conclusion that something needs to be changed. The children and people of my age in particular are what my mind is set on. I think there should be a support system for every child in our city and ultimately in the whole country, which would of course benefit the entire society in the long run. I have followed and admired your work as the minister of education for years now, and I’ve come to the decision that I could be a great addition to your team," I am straight out lying by now, "We have the same believes and I just need to be part of it."

When I have finished, Griffiths bursts out in laughter again. This time it sounds fake. "Well, well, well. New employees never get too have a say in any of the big decisions, but I am sure that _if_ we hire you, it won't take very long until you are one of my personal consultants, am I right," he grins at me.

"I certainly hope so," I say and try to laugh charmingly.

"Well, Mr. Payne," Griffiths claps his hands together, "I do not know why anyone wouldn't want you as an employee. You have everything we want."

"Thank you, Sir," I smile, happy that this seems to be over.

"We'll come back to you as soon as we’ve made a decision," he smiles and gets up from his chair, "’we’ meaning ‘me’, of course."

I laugh and get up as well, shaking his hand. This was quicker than I thought.

"Just leave your phone number with my secretary. I can see that there isn’t one on your résumé. And let's hope she doesn't lose it," he laughs.

I force a laugh, too. "I will," I assure the man, "Have a nice day."

"You too, Mr. Payne. You too," he says when I walk to the door, "Oh and," he points at my clothes. "This will have to be more appropriate next time I see you, yes?"

I look down my body. "Oh yeah, of course," I laugh without an explanation for my casual outfit and leave the room.

Griffith’s secretary Sophia is sitting behind her desk in the anteroom, politely smiling at me when I close the door behind me. "I hope everything went well," she says, putting down her pen.

"Yes, it did," I say walking over to her desk cautiously. I look at her for a moment. She has put her blazer back on even though it is fairly warm in the room. I am sure she is trying to cover herself after the harassment she just had to endure. "Are you..." I begin but I am not sure how to address the issue, "are you okay?" I flat out ask her and immediately face-palm in my mind.

Sophia laughs airily. "Why wouldn't I be?" she asks.

"Um, well... because of your boss," I mutter so he doesn't hear in the next room.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Sir," she says with a blank expression.

I look at her for a moment. "You know that I've seen him when I walked in," I decide to be honest, "I've seen him... touching you."

Sophia's face falls for a moment before she laughs in a high-pitched voice. "Oh that," she waves her hand, "oh, that's nothing. He's my boss, so..."

I can't believe what she is saying. "Sophia," I say urgently, keeping my voice down, "it doesn't matter _who_ he is, you can't allow him to treat you like this. You don't have to let him touch you."

"Well, I want to keep my job, right," she smiles but I can see it falter as I stare at her in disbelieve, "this is totally normal. I-I'm his secretary. I do whatever he tells me. I keep my job. I need the job. You're a cop, right? You must have seen what happens to people that don't have money... it's- it's my only choice."

The look on the girl's face is heartbreaking. She is still smiling but it looks like it's hurting her to maintain the facial expression. I want to help her so much. "Listen," I say and crouch down at the other side of the table to be face to face with her. "What that pig in there does to you is wrong. It's disgusting and horrible. You can't tell me that you are okay with that."

"I'm a woman, okay," Sophia says, her voice sounding defensive all of a sudden, "If I don't have this job and lose my apartment because I can't pay the rent, I'll have to live on the streets. There are two options for homeless women at my age; getting abused by filthy old men every day, or earning money by letting them abuse you. I'd rather get abused by one filthy man than a different one every day."

I can only stare into her angry eyes. Only now I see how strong she really is. When I first saw her and saw how she was letting him touch her, I thought she did it out of fear or because she was too weak to fight back. But the truth is that she does it because she is strong. Maybe one of the strongest people I've ever met. A feeling of complete amazement for this woman overcomes me, and at the same time I feel like beating the shit out of that pig for doing these things to her.

"I-I'm sorry," I mumble after a moment, "I'm not blaming you. I just don't want you to get hurt, you know."

Sophia looks down at her papers. "Don't be sorry. This doesn't have to be of your concern."

"But it is," I say in a low voice.

There is a silence between us for a long moment. I don't know what to say or how to help her because frankly, she is right about what she said. But still. I cannot bear the thought of her being abused or raped again. I need to help her.

"Look, I don't have a phone right now," I say, remembering what Griffiths told me before I left the room, "Mine-mine broke this morning... But you know what, your boss wants me to give you my phone number, anyway. I promise you that I'll get a new phone as soon as I can and come back here to give you the new number. And I need you to promise something to me," I pause, touching her hand to make her look at me, "will you promise me something?"

She seems wary but nods her head nonetheless.

"I need you to promise me that you call my number _whenever_ you need to talk, okay? No matter what time. And promise me to call me whenever that disgusting excuse of a man touches you again, or if you feel like he is calling you into his office to..." My voice cracks at that moment. "Just promise me, okay?"

The girl only stares at me in disbelieve. I think nobody before had ever cared enough to try and help her. "I promise," Sophia finally says under her breath, the surprise still evident in her eyes.

I can feel relief spreading though my veins. "Pinky promise?" I ask her to lighten the mood and hold my pinky out for her to take it.

Suddenly her eyes light up and a smile spreads across her face. "Pinky promise," she chuckles adorably and links her pinky with mine. We look into each other’s eyes for a while, pinkies still linked together. I can feel myself smiling like a dork.

"Well," Sophia suddenly snaps out of it, "So I'll be waiting for your number then."

"Yes," I clear my throat and get up.

"You might not want to waste time with that... so you'll know whether you get the job or not, as soon as possible. And also, Mr. Griffiths doesn't like to wait," she says, adjusting the papers in front of her. She seems to be all secretary again, but I know what her last sentence really means.

"I won't let him wait, I promise," I smile at her, even though I don't feel like smiling, "Try and get home early today, okay?"

"I will, thanks," she says with an appreciative smile.

I nod my head and walk over to the door but before I leave, I turn around again. "See you very soon, Sophia," I smile at her.

"You too, Liam," she says, keeping her voice neutral but I can see the corner of her lips twitching when she looks down at her paperwork.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, how'd it go?" Niall smiles at me in excitement as I reach him after leaving the government building. He certainly seems confident.

"I _need_ to get that job," I burst out immediately.

"You do? It must've gone well if you've changed your mind about the whole thing that quickly," Niall says in surprise.

I shake my head. "Well, I still think that I'm not made for the job," I say rolling my eyes, "I completely made up answers and didn't know what to say half of the time but answered nonetheless."

"See," Niall laughs, "That's what everyone does in there. I'm sure you did great."

"I mean, yeah... I guess he liked me somehow. He was impressed by what Mr. Gifford said about me in the recommendation letter," I admit, "But the whole interview was so fake, I wouldn't be able to tell if he really liked me or not."

"I bet he does, mate," Niall bumps his fist to my shoulder, "And besides, I'm glad you want the job, now. You'll have the chance to change so much."

"Yeah well, not exactly," I shrug, "He told me that I have next to no say in anything if he hires me. But I still need to get the job," I pause, making eye contact with Niall, "That man is despicable. You have no idea what he does to his employees, his secretary... He's a fucking rapist, man."

Niall looks at me strange. "So?" he says, "Are you scared he'll rape you, too?"

I roll my eyes at him. "No," I grunt, "But... I mean, if you'd have seen what he did to his secretary... she's so tiny compared to him. You don't understand... I need to help her."

Niall's doubtful look slowly turns into a smirk as he listens to me. "Ahh, I see," he winks at me, "This is about a girl."

"No," I deny in bewilderment, "this is not about some girl that I want to chase. I _really_ need to help her. She has no one who can or is willing to help her. That prick _rapes_ her, and she thinks she has no other choice than to let him because she needs the job. This has nothing to do with how beautiful she is."

"So she's beautiful," Niall winks.

"Niall, I mean it," I tell him sternly.

The blonde dude looks at me for a second as he realizes that I am serious. "Alright," he agrees, "so let's get you this job."

I smile at him appreciatively. "Good. First things first, I need a phone and a suit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Larry this time, but fear not. They'll be back soooon! x


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

**Niall's POV**

"What do you think," Harry asks me and picks up a pair of dark, sparkly boots from next to his and Louis' closet, "should I also take these with me to the camping trip?"

Him, Louis, and Evan are about to go on a trip, today. They are taking some of the younger boys to teach them how to hunt. We do these trips about 2 to 3 times a year but usually Louis takes me because I’m the best hunter.

I look at the boots with the least weirded-out expression I can manage. "Harold, they are sparkling."

"That's glitter," Harry tells me with a smile.

I really don't know how to react to that. I wasn't trained for this. What is wrong with the guy? "Oh-kay," I grunt with raised eyebrows. I can't help but let out an uncomfortable chuckle.

"Yeah... so?" Harry doesn't seem to notice my mystification about his fashion choices.

"Well... um," I begin while trying to come up with something diplomatic, "maybe they’re a bit too special for a trip like that," I settle for. I catch sight of his other pair of boots. They are very similar looking, but in a light brownish color. No glitter. "How about those instead, ey? If it gets muddy, at least these won't be completely ruined in the end, yes?"

Harry agrees and stuffs the more toned-down pair of boots into the huge backpack that I am borrowing him for the trip.

"Okay, but what about these shorts?" He says, holding up a pair of bright yellow, very short bathing shorts.

"Harry..."

"We might go for a swim," he says in an excusing tone before I can give him an answer.

I sigh, raising an eyebrow. "Dude, you're going on a trip to teach some younger kids how to hunt. It's not a vacation," I explain to him.

"Yeah, about that," Harry frowns and drops his arms to his sides, "Why did Louis choose me to go with him, in the first place? Does he think of me as some exceptionally gifted hunter or something? Because I'm not."

I shrug. "Don't ask me. He usually takes me. Sometimes Zayn, but Liam always frowns upon that because if those two stroll off together, probably everything the kids will learn is how to party, drink beer, and draw cocks into the snow with your own piss. But I don't know, maybe Louis wants to teach you, too..."

"Teach me what?" Harry mumbles, seeming lost in thought.

"How to hunt," I clarify.

"Oh," he says and seems to come back to reality, "Oh, no way. I'm not going to hunt."

"Good luck convincing Louis," I scoff, sitting down on his mattress. It is pushed against Louis' mattress. Must've been cold, last night. I smirk to myself.

"Thanks," Harry scoffs, looking at the shorts in his hands and shrugs, "Well, I'll just take them, too. You guys got me all these clothes, might as well use them." He folds them neatly before stuffing them inside the backpack.

"We got you a whole bunch of different clothes, pal. You were the one to pick out the pieces you now own," I say, looking at the sparkling boots again.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry says with a pout.

"Nothin'," I shrug with a tiny smirk.

"Good," Harry says, his head held high, mumbling to himself, "...my style is great."

"Yes, Sir!" I say loudly, barely keeping a straight face.

Harry catches on to my sarcasm, of course, and rolls his eyes. "Ask Louis. He told me."

"I bet he did," I say under my breath. The two of them have hit it off big time. No wonder Louis likes everything about Harry. Just like Harry can't stop admiring every annoying detail about Louis. The weird thing is though, that they sometimes fight over the stupidest stuff even though everybody knows that they can't _actually_ be mad at each other.

Suddenly a frown crosses Harry's face. "I am going to ask you something now, and you need to take my question seriously, okay?" he informs me.

"Alright, shoot," I say, preparing for the worst.

Harry drops his gaze. He doesn't seem too comfortable with the question. "Have you... ever seen Louis kiss... a girl?" he says, the words slipping through his lips even slower than usual.

"Kiss a girl?" I smirk, "Are you asking me if he's ever been in a relationship?"

Harry shrugs one-sided, still not looking at me. "Yeah like... was he ever in a relationship with a girl?"

"Hm... yeah, of course," I answer, "He was in relationships. I've actually seen him with many girls..." Then I start thinking about it more, "Well, of course not lately. I mean, not in the past couple of years. Only at parties. Like during drinking games and stuff... But before that, yes he's had relationships."

Harry looks at me again but doesn't say anything. I don't know why it is so important to him but I can see in his face that he was expecting a more precise answer.

"You know," I stall, "I guess he only had very brief relationships, now that I think about it. He's probably just like I am. We only find girls for a night or two. Yeah, he likes bringing girls home, or going home with them..."

"He does?" Harry says, his shoulders slightly slouching, "That's a thing his does? Regular thing?"

"I guess," I shrug, not really knowing myself.

Harry turns his head away, looking disappointed. Maybe even more than that. For some reason it makes me regret the whole conversation of the past two minutes. Maybe I should’ve been a bit more delicate with my answer.

"Listen, I don't actually know it myself. I don't really care for his love life. I don't keep track. It's not my business, right? I might be wrong," I backtrack as much as I can.

Harry nods his head in agreement. "Yeah, doesn't really sound like Louis..."

"It doesn't?" I oppose stupidly, "The same guy who likes to party, smoke weed, and just have fun in general doesn't sound like he enjoys screwing random girls?"

"Dunno," he says, but it seems like he knows exactly what he is talking about.

"Well, whatever," I shake my head. This was definitely too much talking about my mate's sex life for my taste. Who cares? "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Harry shrugs. "I don't think he would tell me the truth. He hasn't really been honest with me lately... or ever," he says, stuffing some boxers into the backpack.

"Huh?" I reply in surprise, "Did something happen again? I thought the two of you made up, last night."

Harry scoffs with a half-smile, but it doesn't look amused. "Yeah, we made up alright," he grumbles.

"That's good," I smile supportively, "He's so much easier to deal with when the two of you are on good terms. I think, somehow you make him happier."

"I don't see it," he sighs, "Whatever, let's get moving. I bet Louis is already waiting," he says evasively before closing the backpack and walking out of the bedroom.

"You know, you _could_ just tell me," I call and sprint after him to catch up.

"Tell you what?" Harry says without looking at me.

"What's really going on," Niall says, "I know this is a weird dynamic here when it comes to you, but _we_ are fine, right? We're like... you're a friend to me, you know? I know it sounds weird, but to me we are friends."

"We are friends," Harry says, finally looking at me and cracking a smile.

"Good," I smile back, "That's good. So why is it no problem for us to be friends but it is for you and Louis? I mean, I know that he is a bit more of a handful and he's moody and all that but... I just don't get what the two of you are fighting about all the time. Everyone can see that you guys have hit it off since long before Louis was able to admit it. You guys laugh together all the time.. And then suddenly you don't speak with each other for days. What are you even fighting about?"

Harry smirks at me. "Not really your business, is it?" he smiles, but continues, "we're not fighting about anything, actually. It's dumb. I don't get it myself," he admits, "It's always just petty little things and honestly, most of the time, it's just about me getting angry at something he says. I know it's stupid..."

No, it's actually _insane,_ to be honest. They haven't known each other for all that long but it seems like they’re an old couple. They behave like they've known each other all their lives. But I don't say it. "It's not stupid, Harry," I says instead, "I think those kinds of things just happen when you care so much about what the other person thinks of you. You guys just have to realize that you're both on the same page. He cares about you just as much as you about him. When you both have realized that, it's going to be easier. No petty little fights, no misunderstandings."

Harry just stares at me with his lips fallen agape.

I smirk, feeling pleased, and shrug my shoulders. "Don't look so surprised. I'm a deep fella," I chuckle.

"Well, I can tell you one thing," Harry says as we enter the main hall, "Realizing something and acting on it are two completely different things."

Before I can understand the meaning of that, we reach Louis, Evan, and a couple of younger boys. They're all packed up and ready to go.

"There you are," Louis grunts impatiently, "Took you long enough."

He and Harry don't look at each other. I really don't get them.

"Okay guys," I roll my eyes in annoyance, "You two are going to be the oldest these next couple of days. You're supposed to look after the boys. That means you need to get along."

"We are getting along," Louis counters defensively.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "That so?" I deadpan, "Then take each other's hands and shake it... and look each other in the eye, during. Doesn't count otherwise."

"Niall," Harry whispers forcefully, "What are you doing?"

"I'm making you do exactly what you guys are too chicken to do on your own," I say at a normal volume. They've got nothing to hide here. I know that they both want to make up. "Now, go on," I urge them.

The next minute almost seems comedic as both of them try to figure out how to go about this without losing too much of their dignity. At first both of them don't react, still looking everywhere but at each other. Until Louis' eyes wander over to Harry. He looks at him for a long moment and I can see guilt in his eyes, even though I have no idea what he feels guilty for. When Harry catches Louis' gaze, Louis drops it immediately, pretending to never have even looked at him. For the next minute or so they take turns looking at each other. They look like shy kittens testing the waters before tackling each other into a hug and falling asleep on top of each other. It takes all my self-control to restrain myself from laughing at them.

"Oh, get a move on," I finally say, rolling my eyes.

Louis frowns at me for interfering but then holds his hand out towards Harry whose face lights up instantly. He takes Louis' hand and they shake it, hesitantly smiling at each other.

"There you go," I smile at them and put an arm around each of them to push them towards the exit, "Now go and teach these kids some badass hunting skills and don't even think about fighting again. Believe me, I'll find out. I got my spies everywhere. There will only be smiles and laughter on this trip, you hear me? You'll be happy and if something bothers any one of you guys, you will talk it out and make up just like you did a minute ago. No fights. Are we clear?"

"Clear," Harry chuckles.

"Tommo?" I warn my leader.

"Clear, you freak," he scoffs and curls away from me, "Now, get your filthy wanking hands off me and stop being such a pain in the ass. We'll be fine. We're no kids anymore."

"Yeah, and that worries me," I mumble and let go of the two boys.

"You should be worried about a whole lot of other stuff, pal," Louis points his finger at me threateningly.

"He's joking," Harry chuckles and takes Louis' finger into his hand, "He's just messing with you. We'll be alright, yes? We'll have a nice trip. Let's go."

Harry smiles at Louis gently until Louis rolls his eyes and turns towards the exit to leave. "Are you coming, Hazza?" he says without looking back at Harry, "I need someone to keep the boys at bay. They're not going to listen to a stupid, dickheaded prick like me. I also need someone to rub my feet at the end of an exhausting day in the wilderness."

Harry looks at me one last time with a smirk, before he follows Louis out of the cave. "Yeah, right," he laughs, "Find someone else to do _that._ I'm not touching those smelly old feet."

"Oh, one day you'll be addicted to rubbing my smelly old feet, pretty boy," I can hear Louis say as they exit the cave.

I shake my head with a smile. I don't know what's going on with them 99% of the time but there's something between them for sure. And I know that Harry is good for Louis. I don't know how and I don't know why but Louis is happier when he's with Harry, and only half as grumpy. All his snarky comments turn into sarcastic humor instead of bitterness when Harry is around.

Under whatever circumstances Harry got here, I honestly hope that he will stay with Louis. Not because it would be beneficial for the rest of us, but because I know they could truly be happy with each other.


	38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

**Louis' POV**

Alright let's face it, we all know why I chose Harry to join me on the trip. It wasn't because I think he's going to help me teach the boys how to hunt. And it wasn't because I think he's any safer with me than he is with one of the other captains. It's because I wanted him with me. I wanted to spend the next couple of days with him.

And I'm actually glad that Niall forced that awkward situation of shaking hands on me and Harry. That way, we made up and had a pretty decent time on our way to the camp site. It was still slightly awkward and uncomfortable, and maybe a bit too much of extra friendly conversation, but at least we talked. And he laughed about my jokes. I love when he does that. One time he even hit his head against the passenger seat's window because he laughed so hard. Made me feel better than I have ever since waking up on top of Harry's chest.

We've been spending here all day already. I supervised the boys while they set up the tents (meaning I chilled for a bit, you know me). I already took two of the three boys for a quick hunt but I was the only one who actually killed something. We're just at the beginning, they'll learn. At least we have the game that I shot for dinner. Harry is showing us how to make bread that doesn't feel like gum when you chew it.

"So what? We'll have to leave it sitting in the sun again? But we just did that," Peter says to Harry as he covers the dough with a towel.

"Yes, it helps creating air pockets which makes the bread very light and fluffy," Harry smiles at the boy. He has been so patient with them even though they weren't very happy about learning how to bake. "Be glad that we're not making puff pastry," he chuckles, "that has to be folded and rested and refrigerated at least 5 times and even overnight!"

I roll my eyes at him. He's such a geek.

"How do you know all of this?" Evan asks, seeming genuinely interested in what Harry has to say.

Harry beams him an appreciative smile. "I work at a bakery," he explains.

"You work? Why do you have to work? Your parents are rich, right?" Peter furrows his eyebrows.

Harry bursts into laughter. "I don't _have_ to work, I just like working there," he shrugs with a smile.

I can feel my face fall and annoyance taking over. "Yeah, and you wanna know why he likes it so much, Pet," I snarl and finish the rest of the sentence by looking directly at Harry to show him just ho annoyed I am, "he particularly likes the ladies that work there. They're supposed to be 'really nice', isn't that right, Harold?"

Harry looks back at me in confusion, his green eyes watching me until he seems to come to a realization and a knowing smirk spreads across his face.

"Is it not?" I repeat, growing more and more irritated, the longer he looks at me with the smug expression on his face.

"Oh yes," Harry smirks, "the ladies are _really_ nice. They're one of the reasons why I love working there... and they can't keep their hands off of me."

Of fucking course. Why is he telling me this? I really don't need the visuals.

"Are they good looking?" Evan asks, seeming intrigued.

"Ooh, they're beautiful ladies, very beautiful. Sweet, too," Harry smiles at him, a chuckle escaping his mouth in the end.

"Ah you're lucky," the teenage boy says with envy in his voice, "the girls that I hang out with every day are either taken or hung up on someone cooler," he nods his head in my direction, "Well, simply not interested into someone like me."

"I'm sure you'll find someone," Harry smiles at him, "Don't be too jealous of me for my co-workers, though. They'd probably be too old for you."

I scoff. "Don't worry, lover boy. He won't take them from you. He doesn't even know them," I say dismissively.

The curly boy turns his head to me again, still wearing that cheeky smirk on his lips. What am I missing? "He wouldn't be taking them from me, though. They're also definitely too old for me, and I usually don't mind an age difference," he explains, his voice filled with joy, "Besides, they're all married."

Married? A hint of realization hits upon me at his words. "How old did you say are these ladies, again?" I ask in a wary tone.

Harry's smirk grows even bigger, making me stare at his dimples in fascination. "I didn't," he winks at me.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Are you sure?" I say, "I think I can recall you telling me that they were around our age."

"Nope. I didn't tell you anything about them," Harry shakes his head, still enjoying this moment, "Liam interrupted us back then."

A quiet "oh" escapes my mouth as I begin to remember again. "You mean that time when you..."

Harry nods his head slowly. His facial features soften while he keeps on smiling at me.

"...and then we almost..." I continue, pretty much completely forgetting the other handful of guys around. But only pretty much, because I still remember not to say out loud what happened back then.

Harry nods his head again. "Yeah, almost," he smiles fondly.

"Eh, okay? What exactly is going on here, boss?" Peter pulls us into reality again.

I briefly shake my head to get rid of the memories of the night. "Nothin' Peter," I clear my throat, "Harry and I were just taking about the time that we almost... forgot Linda by the pond." Wow, my lies have seen better days, that's for sure.

"You did what?" Evan gaps.

"Well, Harry did," I shrug, "I saved her, last second. You know how responsible I am," I joke.

"Yes, I know," Evan nods his head sincerely.

I raise an eyebrow at him and Harry chuckles, making me look at him.

"Stop laughing, Curly. I know it's hard to believe but some people actually like me," I try to sass him out but it doesn't come nearly as easily as it used to. "You could've just told me that your co-workers are old. I was worried."

"Worried? Why would you be worried," Harry smirks knowingly.

"Uh because..." I begin but can't seem to think of something. "You shouldn't just shag every girl you come across. Take me as an example," I finally say, when I realize that everyone is staring at me, "I never have relationships."

The teenage boys start laughing at the mention of shagging numerous girls.

"But you've been in relationships, right?" Evan says, keeping a straight face and I know he does it to show me that he is not a kid anymore. That's the reason why he came with us on the trip, because we think he needs more practice.

I look at Harry who looks back at me quizzically. He seems to be weirdly interested in my answer.

"Yeah, I mean," I say, still looking into Harry's observing eyes, "Nothing serious. No real relationships. None that count," I say honestly, "And it's been years. Many years, I was just a kid. How much can it mean when you're that age?" I point to Peter and the other boys. Harry doesn't seem convinced, even though we'd already talked about it in the past.

"Yeah, but it's not like you couldn't _have_ someone anymore, since then," Evan says, "You've got great game with the girls and you know it."

"It's not a game," Harry throws in.

"What?" Evan says with a frown.

"Relationships. Love. It's not a game," Harry shrugs, also frowning, before he looks down.

My heart begins to beat very fast at his words, but the way he looks makes me sad.

"He's right," I agree. But for some reason I feel like I need to explain myself further in front of Harry. I did not lie to him when I told him that I never really had any relationships. This is weird, I never feel the need to explain myself in front of anyone. "That's why I've never really been in a relationship," I say, only looking at Harry, "The few flings that I once had meant nothing. And I literally mean nothing. That's why I always ended them so quickly," slowly Harry raises his head again, looking back at me, "I realized that they didn't make me feel anything, so I ended them. And at some point I realized that it is useless and stopped dating girls altogether."

"But you're still really popular with the girls," Evan adds for consideration, "You're way more popular with them than I will ever be. And I know that some of the girls never got over you even after eight years."

"Kim," Harry says calmly. It's a statement, not a question. I can see his jaw clenching, making me feel bad, but I shake it off.

"Honestly, I think she got over me pretty quickly as soon as she met Harry," I grunt, feeling jealously tingling in my chest again.

"Oh, come on," Evan snickers, "We all know she only kissed him to make you jealous. Even I know that and I wasn't even there that night."

Suddenly, the corner of Harry's lips pulls into a half-sided smirk. I look into his eyes and feel myself smirking back because I know what he is thinking. She did made me jealous by kissing him. Just not of Harry.

Just like that, the images of that night come back to me. The way we screamed at each other, the way we suddenly kissed. The way I somehow ended up falling asleep on top of his chest, feeling better than ever before. Having these images in my head while looking into his eyes makes the whole situation painful. _This_ is what I want. Him.

But I can't. I just can't.

"Ouch," Harry winces, "I think I've just been stung," he says, his hand flying to the back of his neck.

When he pulls it back to the front, there is a tiny needle in his hand, with grey feathers on one end.

 I can't quite place the connection of the two events until Harry's eyes roll back into his head and he falls to the ground.

"Harry!" I shout, feeling horrified. I jump to my feet and run over to him, carefully taking his face in between my palms to check on his consciousness but he doesn't respond to my light patting.

I curse under my breath and take the tiny blow dart out of Harry's hand to look at it briefly. This has definitely been shot by a person.

My head shoots up towards the direction the dart must have been shot from and soon enough, I have spotted a hooded man sprinting away. Without any hesitation, I jump to my feet again, grab the closest bow and quiver, and spurt after the bastard. I can feel the panic for Harry and the rage at the shooter mix together and make me move faster than I have, ever since I got shot into my calf. I'm still not as fast as before but I am fast enough to catch up to the person in no time. I stop in my tracks, aim an arrow directly at him, and shoot. I don't even take his death into consideration. I am too livid to be rational.

I can hear a fleshy sound of impact and a pained shout as the arrow hits its target. The shooter falls to his knees and places his palms on the ground to keep balanced. I've hit him into the right shoulder. From the distance, it doesn't look like a fatal wound. Now that I've been standing and breathing for a moment or two, I am glad that he'll probably survive. I don't know how I'd react if I'd just killed a person.

I run over to him and kick him into the side of his torso to make him fall to the ground completely. But I don't feel satisfied yet, still having the image of Harry's rolled back eyes in my mind, and kick him against the shin. "You fucking bastard," I yell and kick him into his side again, making him cry out in pain.

He's a boy, probably a bit younger than I. Maybe Carlos' age. His hair is dyed grey and shaved really short, his clothes are mostly grey, too.

"You're a Grey Skin?" I spit at him with an angry crease between my eyebrows, "How the _hell_ did you find us?"

Despite the obvious pain he is in, a red grin spreads across his face. His mouth is full of blood. He must've bitten his tongue when he fell. "Your friend seemed quite exhausted over there," he grunts with a mean smile, "Fell asleep just like that, didn't he?"

"You little bastard," I snarl at him and completely push him onto his back with my foot which visibly hurts him because the arrow is still sticking inside his shoulder, "You're gonna pay for this, shithead."

The Grey Skin laughs with a cough. "Let's just see who of us will pay more, in the end," he croaks.

I narrow my eyes at him. I don't know what he is implying by that, but it doesn't sound good.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

**Louis' POV**

"Evan," I call over to the tall boy, "I want you to keep an eye on that one."

I am back at the camp site. I tied the Grey Skin to a tree and took all of his weapons. He was heavily armed; knifes in his boots and belt, two axes on his back, over a dozen more of those damn blow darts, and of course the poison that goes with it.

When Evan has run over to me and the new prisoner, I press one knife into his hand. "Make sure that bastard doesn't move from the spot," I grunt, still feeling furious.

Evan gives me a short nod, clearly happy to take the responsibility serious.

"I'll go check on Harry," I tell him.

Evan turns around to look at the curly boy once more. "He'll probably be out for like an hour or so," he says to me, "We'll just have to wait."

Before I can respond, I hear the Grey Skin chuckle from behind us.

I turn around to face him with narrowed eyes. "Oh and Evan, don't hesitate to kick him in the balls whenever he opens his mouth," I spit.

Without wasting another second, I run over to where Harry is still lying on the ground, surrounded by the younger boys. Of course he’s still unconscious. I kneel down next to him and feel my eyebrows furrow again.

"Hazza," I say under my breath and sigh, palming his cheek gently, "When will I ever be able to stop worrying about you, huh?" I carefully push a strand of his hair out of his face and keep on caressing him in affection. That's when I realize how hot he is. His temples have already gathered a layer of sweat.

"Peter," I call in alarm, "Go get some wet towels or something. And you two," I gesture towards the other two younger boys, "help me carry him into a tent, will you?"

We lay him on top of as many pillows and blankets as we can find and cover him with the last remaining one to keep him warm. As soon as we have covered Harry, Peter comes in with a cold, wet towel which I use to lightly pat over Harry's face.

"You'll be fine, Harry," I say with a smile, blocking out the other three boys in the tent, "You'll be up and smiling and annoying me with your lame jokes, in no time. Promise." My smile slowly fades. I am mainly saying these things to convince myself. I know Harry can't hear me right now.

I tell the boys to keep an eye on Harry and exchange the towel whenever it becomes too warm, before I leave the tent to rejoin Evan with the prisoner.

"Now, dickhead," I snarl at the grey boy in anger, "How did you find us?"

The boy shrugs with a smile, "I bet you'd like to know that, don't you?"

"I wouldn't be wasting my time with you if I didn't want answers," I roll my eyes, "So just give me straight answers and stop with the ugly grin."

"Don't see the point in giving you anything, moron," he says unimpressed.

I laugh in annoyance. "Maybe you haven't noticed yet, but you're unarmed and tied to a tree," I say and pull my jack knife from my pocket.

"You going to kill me?" the Grey Skin snickers.

I scrunch up my face, pretending to consider it. "Not yet," I shrug, "I still need you to be able to talk to me for a while. But honestly, I don't care if you're bruised and bloody while talking. Not that you aren't already, right," I wink at him, walk to stand next to him, and finally yank the arrow out of his shoulder at a strange angle because of the tree behind him. The boy screams in pain, more blood seeping out of the teared wound. I come to stand directly in front of him and use the bloody arrow head to pat his cheek, leaving red stains in his face.

"What you did there," I growl at him and point to the tent that Harry is still suffering in, "was the worst thing you could've done for yourself. You made me angry, mate. Really angry. That was a mistake. There is one thing you need to know about me. I'm a forgiving man. But if you hurt _him_ , I'll make sure that the rest of your pathetic life will be miserable."

"Isn't he your fucking prisoner," the Grey Skin laughs, "Why would you even care if he's okay?"

"That's none of your damn business, is it?" I spit.

"Wait," Evan throws in, looking at the other boy, "You know who he is?"

The latter only smirks at him.

"Of course, he knows who Harry is," I frown, and feel like punching something in anger. Maybe I should start with the bastard in front of me. "The Grey Skins were the ones to tell the police about him, remember?"

"And my people will be very pleased to learn that I have found out which gang took him," the boy smiles, but I can see in his face that he is still in a lot of pain.

"You think we're going to let you go?" I laugh in anger, "You think we'll ever let you run to your little friends so you can tell them about him?"

The Grey Skin only glares back at me in realization.

"But it's good to know that you're alone, right now," I continue, "I have enough on my mind at the moment as is. I don't need to be thinking about you lot messing shit up."

"You've really grown to like the cake eater, haven't you?" the grey-haired boy smirks.

I can feel my pulse quicken and start to take deep long breaths to try and keep it down. If he's going to make fun of Harry while he's still in that bad condition, I'm going to make him regret it.

"He's allowed to go on cute little trips with you, no chains, running around freely, he shows you how to bake - isn't that beautiful - you laugh together," he tells me, "It's really quite romantic."

He must've been watching us for a while before he shot Harry, to know so many details.

"But you know, what I don't get is that the rich kid seems to be pretty comfortable with his fate. He's smiling and joking and behaving like he's your equal," the Grey Skin continues.

"He _is_ my equal," I growl.

When the captive laughs at my response, I shut him up by pressing the arrow head into his chest until I can see a bit of blood stain his shirt and he winces in pain. "Be careful with your attitude, shithead, or I'll show Evan here how to turn a Grey Skin into a Red Skin without killing it," I threaten in a low voice.

"Alright, alright," the boy says through his teeth, "but tell me one thing. Why the hell hasn't he run away from you, yet? Did you build him a castle inside of your foxhole and wipe his ass for him every time he takes a shit, or what?"

I groan loudly and throw away the arrow. "I said," I snarl and jerk my knee up into his guts, "watch your attitude." Then I grab his neck and push his head into the tree. "And how the fuck do you know where we live? What was that about the foxhole?"

The Grey Skin looks bruised and bloody by now and I can see that he is in a lot of serious pain in many parts of his body, but he still manages to throw a half-sided grin at me. The Grey Skins really are so different from the Creepers. If this was a Creeper, he'd be crying and begging for mercy by now. Not this one, though. Grey Skins are determined fighters.

"You know, it suits you Sparrows to live like cavemen," he snorts, "You're just as dense and you obviously need the concealment to hide from gangs like ours, or the police. That's the difference between you and us. Power."

I roll my eyes at him but ignore him. "So you've seen the cave," I conclude, "You've followed us from there. All the way. Since we didn't get a visit by one of your people, yet, I'm assuming you're the only Grey Skin that knows about the cave," I pat his cheek, probably a bit too hard, and turn around to go check on Harry. He must be waking up any minute now, I guess.

"Congratulations," I shout while walking away, "You've just been voted permanent resident of our little dog cage at home. Say goodbye to your pathetic life."

I enter the tent and when I lay eyes on Harry, my entire demeanor changes instantly. I relax my shoulders and my face softens, adopting a worried expression. Harry looks worse than an hour ago. His curls are sticking to his wet forehead, there's a pained crease between his eyebrows. His breathing sounds troubled and way too fast.

The other boys look at me in despair. Peter is still trying to cool Harry's neck and head with towels but it doesn't look like it helps.

"Since when has he been like this?" I ask, my voice full of worry. Without waiting for an answer I hurry over to the unconscious and sit down at his side, taking one of his sweaty but cold hands into mine.

"At least 20 minutes," one of the boys says somberly.

"20 minutes?!" I flip around to him, "Why didn't you call for me?"

The boy looks to the ground in shame.

"We-we thought you were busy," Peter answers in his place.

I groan in irritation but turn back to Harry and keep my mouth shut. I know that whatever I'd tell them, right now would only be 10 times harsher because I'm so afraid for the boy beside me. And it wouldn’t help Harry, either.

"What am I gonna do, Harry," I whisper to him in fear, "This isn't normal."

Now that I am so close to him, I can see that his face is tinted green. Tiny moans of pain escape his lips and his head feels even hotter than before.

"This doesn't happen with anesthetics," I say to the others, "He should be looking like he's sound asleep. This isn't a normal reaction."

"Maybe he's allergic," someone suggests but I shake my head.

"No, this doesn't look like an allergic reaction either," I say, lost in my own thoughts, "Maybe something was wrong with the blow dart."

I gently push one of my hands under his head and put my other arm around his shoulder to carefully turn him to the side, so I can have a look at the puncture.

I gasp for breath when I see the back of Harry's neck. The puncture looks dark and has swollen up a lot, but the worst thing is that the entire lump is covered with purple veins leading away from the puncture. I curse under my breath and stroke his hair further out of the way to take a closer look at it. What the hell happened? I catch myself repeating his name in desperation while continuing to stoke his hair. I have no fucking clue what is going on and I'm starting to freak out here.

I get myself to look into Harry's face and try to wrap my head around everything. This _can't_ be leading to where I think it is. There must be something that I'm missing. I need to fix this. But how?

Suddenly, I hear the voice of the Grey Skin in my head: _Let's just see who of us will pay more, in the end_.

My breath catches. No! I've already found out that he knows how Harry and I have grown close. He knows I care for him. He knows what it would do to me if I'd lose him. He knew what he was talking about when he said that to me. He's making me pay!

Once more, I caress Harry's face that is still twisted in pain. I don't want to leave him. All I want is stay with him and make sure he won't get worse. But I have to save him. I have no idea how, but I know that the bastard outside will have an answer. I get up and storm out of the tent and towards the captive.

"What the fuck kind of poison was in that blow dart?" I shout in fury, before I even arrive at the tree.

The Grey Skin snickers. "Finally figured it out, huh?" he says.

I don't listen to him. "With what shit did you poison him," I yell. I don't know when I have ever felt this furious in my life. And he is laughing in my face?

"One of my own creations," he winks at me, "it works slowly, but it's very effective."

"You fucking shitface!" I yell at him. I feel so helpless, I can't think of anything else to do.

The other boy stays completely calm. "It was perfect for this occasion. My people can't use him, the police knows about the abduction because of us. We would immediately be arrested if we used him for our own cause. But poisoning him like that would have multiple benefits. He would be in enough agony for you to freak out and start blaming yourself for not being able to help him, eventually he'd die and you would be in pain which," he smiles at me, "is always a nice touch, don't you think. And lastly, you'd lose your hostage and therefore leverage against the Styles family and if they'd catch you, this would be a murder case and not just an abduction anymore."

"That's it!" I yell and close the distance between me and him, punching him in the face. I can hear a crack. That was probably his nose. That's far from enough, though. "I'll fucking kill you, you son of a-"

"Stop it, Louis!" Evan yells and tries to pull me away from the Grey Skin, but I'm far too furious to let him stop me. "Louis! Listen to yourself," he yells, "It's no use!"

But I don’t care. I punch the bastard over and over again, finally letting some steam off. All I can feel is the hatred against that guy and my worries about Harry.

When my fists are full of blood and the Grey Skin is close to passing out, I am finally pulled away from him. The other three boys have come out of the tent to help Evan. They're not letting go of me and after a minute of trying to trash myself free, I give up and try to calm down. But it's hard.

"Alright," I finally snarl at our captive, "I'll give you one chance. If you want to live, tell me how I can stop the poison from killing Harry."

When the Grey Skin laughs, it sounds more like a weak rattle. "You can't," he states.

I can feel my heart sink and my pulse quicken. I'm horrified. But my mind still wants to fight. I can't give up.

"You're lying!" I accuse him, "I know you're lying! There has to be something!"

"Face it. There's nothing," the bastard murmurs, being too weak to talk in a normal voice.

"No! No, I won't believe that," I yell with a lump in my throat, "Evan. Bring me the blow dart."

Without a word Evan lets go of me and leaves the rest of us to go looking for the weapon.

"If he dies because of you," I say in a low voice but I know that the bruised guy in front of me can hear me, "this will not end well for you. I will make the rest of your life literal hell. I'll kill every single person that you love and make you watch."

"Louis," Peter says under his breath, "You're not being yourself, right now."

Before I can think about that or at least snap at him, Evan rejoins us with the blow dart.

I really have no idea what to do with it. I take a very close look at it, but I don't even know what to look for. But there has to be something. Anything!

"There's still some poison clinging to the dart," I mumble and look up into the Grey Skin's eyes, "I bet it would have the same effect on you as it has on Harry."

"You can't threaten me, idiot," the other one grunts, "There's not enough poison left to kill me."

I look at it again and shrug. "I could kill you with anything - a knife, a rope, my hands - but I bet _this_ can give you as much pain as it is giving him," I say and take a step closer towards him, "It'll hurt even more than the pain that you're already in, but you won't die."

When I look into my enemy's eyes again, I know that I am right. But that's what makes things even worse. I know that Harry must be in the worst pain if the Grey Skin doesn't even want to be poisoned with the tiny rest.

"Do whatever pleases you," he says to my surprise.

"Oh, I will," I growl at him and step directly in front of him, pressing the dart against his neck, before I raise my voice again, "if you don't fucking tell me how to save Harry!"

The boy only laughs again.

"Now! Tell me, you fucking miserable rat," I yell in his face.

When the twat still doesn't speak, I press the tip into his neck. I immediately see the effects. His breathing becomes heavy and he starts moving as much as he can manage against the ropes.

But then his eyes meet mine and his movements calm. "You're such a wimp," he hisses in pain, "He's your fucking hostage, and look at yourself and how you act just because of that rich idiot. But you're out of luck. You will _never_ get the answer out of me. And I will never let you lock me up and hold me hostage. Go watch your little friend die. You have no power over me!"

Then, he moves something from the back of his mouth in between his front teeth and shows it to me with a smile. It looks like a tiny red candy. I frown at him. I have no idea what he's trying to tell me with this. Suddenly, he bites down on it and swallows.

Immediately, his face scrunches up in pain and a croak escapes his mouth right before he coughs up blood. Within seconds, his breath sounds like he's drowning. Just a moment later he stops moving altogether and his chin falls to his chest.

He's dead.


	40. Chapter Forty

**Louis' POV**

He's still not better. He still looks as sick and sweaty and agonized as he did before. I wish I could help him, I wish I knew what I can do to make this better. It hurts me to see him like this and I am terrified that we might not be able to help him.  But there is still hope. The Grey Skin's suicide has given me hope.

Right after we carried that guy a fair way off the camp site, I sent the other four boys out to scan the forest for anything that could belong to him. If he really followed us all the way from the cave, he had to have some kind of vehicle. I can't believe nobody noticed him the whole time.

My hope is that they will find something that can help healing Harry. There has to be something. Of course I could be wrong and there isn't an antidote after all, but right before the Grey Skin killed himself, he said something like "You will never get the answer from me". He made sure of that by killing himself. To me, that sounded like there is an answer, a solution, anything that can save this boy right next to me.

I could've gone and searched the woods myself, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving Harry behind. I need to be with him. I won't leave him alone.

I haven't left his side ever since I entered the tent about two hours ago. It has gotten cold and dark by now but the boys aren't back yet. I wonder what takes them so long. I can't stand seeing Harry like this anymore. All I want is to swop places with him. He doesn't deserve this. He didn't deserve anything that happened to him ever since we kidnapped him.

He looks sick, so sick. I keep petting his damp hair and gently caress his face in hopes that he will feel it and relax, or wake up, or... just feel better. But I'm not surprised that he doesn't show any reaction. Still, I keep on caressing his cheeks and slowly run my fingertips along his jawline. He's my boy, my Harry. I can't accept his fate, I can't come to terms with the fact that he is dying.

"Please, don't leave me, Hazza," I whisper to him, "Please."

 For a second, I think about sucking the wound out but that would probably not help anymore, at this point. I should've done that right after he got shot, not hours later.

"Don't you leave me, you hear me?" I find myself mumbling, even though I know it's no use.

Suddenly, I hear something. Sounds like a motorbike. And soon enough, I can see a light approaching the tent. Who can this be? We don't have any motorbikes. Horrible pictures of more Grey Skins torturing me but keeping me alive to make me watch while they are killing the boys, and ultimately Harry, are crossing my mind, until the tent is zipped open and a blushed Evan steps in.

"Oh, it's you," I say and start breathing again.

"Sorry that it took so long," Evan apologizes and gives Harry a worried glance, "That's why I decided to leave the others to walk back here on their own and took the motorbike to get here faster."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Oh, yeah that makes sense," I joke before adding, "Where did you get it from?"

"It's the vehicle that the Grey Skin used," Evan answers eagerly and steps closer.

"Really?" I sit up straighter. Of course it is, how didn't I realize that right away? "Where did you find it?"

"About a mile from here," Evan says and kneels down next to us, "We went searching for it in the direction he ran, after he shot Harry. I figured he was running back to the spot where he left his vehicle. It turned out to be right. And he was clever, too. He hid it far enough away so we wouldn't accidentally come across it while we're hunting."

I'm already impressed with the way he handled the responsibility. Apparently, as soon as you force him to be in charge of something, he'll be that much more mature than usually. But I can't be thinking about his training now. "Did you find something with the bike?" I ask in hope.

Evan nods his head as if he'd already forgotten and starts fishing something out of his backpack. It's a small zip bag with the name _Zac_ painted on. When Evan shakes it carefully, I can hear a rattling noise that sounds like glass hitting glass.

"Poison seemed to be his weapon," Evan says as he hands me the little bag.

My hands are shaking when I open it. I don't know whether it is out of excitement and hope for a cure or out of fear as to what I will find.

Inside the bag are a few dozen tiny flasks of different size and shape filled with liquids of different color. There is also a slightly bigger flask which holds about fifty of the red poisonous suicide pills. They might come in handy at some point.

"I gathered everything that looked like poison in this bag," Evan tells me, "This was the biggest batch but we found these flasks _everywhere_ in and around the bike. I think he was trying to hide some of them."

Well, great. I roll my eyes internally. Those were probably the antidotes. Or maybe that was the poison and those inside the bag were the antidotes. Damn, who knows what goes on inside of the head of a lunatic? I guess, I'll have to take my chances.

"Which one was the hardest to find?" I ask Evan and return the bag to him.

The boy hums in thought. "I don't know," he mumbles and rummages through the collection of flasks, "This one, maybe," he says and retrieves a very average looking bottle with a bilious green liquid and a cork lid.

There is no label attached to it which could have told us what it is. I take it from Evan and turn it in my hands. This could be anything.

"We only found it because Peter was dumb enough to break the taillight," Evan explains. His head darts in Harry's direction when the curly boy utters a particularly loud groan.

I turn to him in worry. "Hey, Harry," I breath as calm as I can manage, "Don't worry, we'll fix this. You'll be fine, okay? This will be over in no time." I just don't know whether it will be over in the good way or the bad.

"He looks bad," Evan comments.

"I know. That's why I'll have to try it," I grumble and pop open the lid of the bottle, "Could you come here and hold his head up, please?"

Evan looks at the open bottle and pauses at my words. "You're going to give that to him, just like that?" he says, sounding a little horrified.

I shrug my shoulders but my face adopts a grave expression. "Look at him," I say and do so myself. His skin looks ashen now, he looks like he is already dead. But he is still breathing heavily and letting out little gasps and moans of pain. "He's dying," I say, my voice breaking at the end, "This might be our best chance. This will either help him or not. It can't make it worse, at this point. He'll live or he'll die."

"Louis, that's insane," Evan objects, shaking his head quickly, "We should... test this first, see what all these bottles do."

"We don't have the time for that," I raise my voice impatiently, "We'll do it like I said."

Evan only looks back at me with uncertainty in his eyes.

"You think I _want_ him to die?" I say angrily, "You think I don't care whether this will work or not? That's bullshit! I worry about him more than any of you, okay? I'm trying to save him, but I have no idea how. This is me trying to save him, Evan, you see? I want him to survive this. I _need_ him to survive this! But he won't if we keep on doing nothing. Now, please, just hold his head up for me, will you?"

Without another word, Evan nods his heads, gets up, and positions himself next to Harry's head to hold it up. I give him a grateful smile. My hands are shaking again when I put the bottle to Harry's chapped lips. This time, it definitely is fear. One hand finds his cheek, palming it desperately while the other empties the bottle into the boy's mouth.

I hold my breath for the next ten seconds.. then 20.. a minute. Nothing happens. There's no visible change in the look or behavior of him. After about two minutes of waiting and watching in anticipation, I look up at Evan in wonder.

I am just about to suggest to try another flask when Harry gasps loudly, making me jump. His eyes fly open and he makes a sound like the one somebody makes that has been holding their breath for a lot longer than what is comfortable. My heart jumps in excitement, but before the relief and joy can travel all the way up to my brain, his eyes shut again and the breathing doesn't calm down anymore. I see him struggling for air right in front of me and have no idea what to do about it.

"Harry!" I shout out in horror and take his hand that is reaching for me.

When I look at Evan again, he only shrugs his shoulders with a frightened expression on his face.

Then, Harry's body stops moving. "No!" I cry out, forgetting everything around me. This just reminded me way to much at what had happened to the Grey Skin when he killed himself. At first, I'm afraid that Harry has stopped breathing altogether, but then I see that his chest is still moving the tiniest bit. But he is breathing way too slow and much too shallow to actually supply his whole body with enough oxygen for more than a few minutes.

This is it.

A sob escapes my lips and my eyes dart up to Evan. "Leave," I command, "Go find the others and get them back safely. Leave!"

"Louis, are you sure?" Evan says with sadness in his voice. He knows the truth, too, which makes it even more painful and real. Harry is dying. "You don't have to be alone, right now. I could stay."

"I'm not alone," I grunt and look at Harry's pale face, "Go, Evan! Leave," I repeat without looking at him. I can't have him around when I break down. He can't be here for this and I know I can't hold it back for much longer.

My heart is raising in my chest. I can't seem to breathe anymore. It feels like I am in a dream. In a nightmare.

Evan gets up and lightly pats my shoulder as he leaves the tent but I almost don't even feel it.

I don't think I can feel anything, anymore. I wouldn't know what to feel. Or how. All I do is hold on to Harry's hand that is still in mine and slowly run my other hand up and down Harry's slowly moving chest, waiting for his heartbeat to cease completely.

What have I done? I've killed him. This is all my fault.

Another sob escapes my mouth and my head falls onto his chest as I can see my vision blur. "I'm so sorry, Harry," I cry pathetically but I can't get myself to care, "I never wanted this to happen. I'm so sorry, baby. So fucking sorry."


	41. Chapter Forty-One

**Zayn’s POV**

"Eh, mate. What are you doing out here?" I call while walking towards Liam who is laying against a tree, outside the cave. He is covered in blankets and wearing a beanie on his head because it is still quite chilly at night time. It's only May after all.

"Hey, what's up," he waves when he sees me. He was obviously getting ready to go to sleep.

"Niall told me I could find you here," I say when I reach him and sit down next to him, taking one of his blankets for myself, "I thought he was messing with me."

"Yeah," Liam chuckles sheepishly, "I don't have any reception inside," he says, showing me his new phone. It's a very basic one. Only calls and texts. No games, camera, or anything.

"Why would you even need that now?" I furrow my eyebrows while looking at the device, "Are you going to call someone? You know we can't waste that kind of money."

"I'm not calling anyone," Liam shrugs, "Niall and I got a prepaid card for the phone and I'm only using it for emergencies. I'm just sleeping outside in case someone calls _me_. I can't miss it."

I look at the guy in suspicion. "Who might call you at one in the morning?" I ask, "you only got the phone yesterday. And that was supposed to be for work only."

Without giving me any answers, Liam starts smiling guiltily. Okay, something is up.

"Liam," I go, "What aren't you telling me?"

Liam's smile grows bigger, transforming into a smirk before he mumbles, "Nothing."

I've known that dude long enough now, to read his behavior correctly. Especially if he behaves like _this_. "Alright, so this is about a girl," I state, nodding my head.

"No," Liam denies immediately but I know him better. I mean it's obvious even for someone who doesn't know the guy. He is sleeping outside in the cold at his own choice. He's waiting for a mysterious phone call in the middle of the night. Come on, what else could it be.

"No?" I raise my eyebrows, deciding to go with it for the moment, "About what then?"

"Well..." Liam stalls, "There's that secretary-"

"So, it's about a girl," I interrupt him with one single nod to my head.

"No! Well, yeah..." he struggles for words "but it's different. I'm not hitting on her or anything. I just told her she can call whenever she wants."

I have to suppress a smile, I know him so well. What is he trying to achieve? He knows that I can see right through him. "So, you're pretending to be sensible and thoughtful to get in her pants," I tease him. I know he actually can be very sensible and thoughtful but it’s always fun to make him a bit nervous.

"What?! No," Liam squeaks, giving me exactly the reaction that I was looking for, "She's being harassed by my new boss and I'm trying to help her. That's all."

"Help her in the middle of the night when she is probably safely in her own bed, right," I wink, finally not being able to hide the smirk anymore.

"Well..." Liam stalls again, looking at the blankets that are covering him, "Maybe she can't sleep because of the horrible memories, or something." This time he looks genuine, sad even. He does care a lot about people. Way more than I do, anyway.

So I keep my smirk and ignore his last comment. "I bet she's hot," I tease him further.

At my words, Liam stops short, looking at me somewhat bitter. "Fuck off, Malik," he grunts, obviously annoyed. Oops.

I wink at him again.

"You're just like Niall," Liam grumbles, before adding to himself, "and what if. She's attractive. That doesn't have anything to do with it, though."

A chuckle escapes my lips. "I knew she must be hot," I say and slightly shove him away.

"Dude," Liam says sternly, "I just want to help her. If you'd have seen what I saw..." A shudder runs down his body. "You'd understand," he finishes.

I roll my eyes. Like he doesn't know that I'm messing with him. "I do understand," I say in seriousness, "You're a good guy. You always wanna save people. You are trying to never let anything happen to that girl again. I get it. You gave her your number so you can save her." I smirk again. I just can't stay serious for too long, "But you are sleeping in the cold for a different reason. This, you’re doing because you fancy her," I say, knowing full well that we both know I'm right.

Liam rolls his eyes at me. "I'm sleeping in the cold because I already missed her call last night," he explains.

"Aww, seriously," I mock him, "Now would you look at that. She already called you the first night after meeting you. I'd call it true love." I pull a face at him and can't help but laugh.

Liam groans in annoyance. He really rises to my bait. "Seriously, fuck off, Zayn," he grunts, "She's not even interested. She's way out of my league, alright? In every possible way."

I smile at him. He means it. But just a moment later, I recover. "You've got it bad, man," I laugh.

"No, I don't," he denies quickly.

Just then, his phone rings and Liam startles into an upright position. He looks at me with big eyes before starting to fumble with the phone. A fit of laughter hits me while watching the bloke getting all flustered over a phone call by some girl he just met.

Before he hits the green button, he looks at me again. "Now shut your vicious mouth and leave, twat," he says to me sternly.

I only laugh out loud, pat his shoulder with a wink and walk back into the cave, leaving the whipped dude to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Harry's POV**

When I first open my eyes, it feels like they are glued together for a moment. I think I have never felt as exhausted in my life. Everything hurts. My joints, my limps, my muscles, my throat, everything. My head feels like it is going to explode. I also realize that I am practically lying in a pool of my own sweat. My hair is plastered to my face, my clothes feel soggy. I feel a bit disgusting.

I take a few deep breaths. I feel like I didn't really breathe for the past hours. I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep. I just know that I was sitting with Louis and some younger boys in the middle of the woods when my vision suddenly went black and a searing pain struck my body. I don't remember much else. Just more pain. But it feels like a dream, like I wasn't really there for it. However long it took me to wake up, it was not a pleasant time.

As far as I can see, it is night time. But it could've been days since I’ve been conscious, last time.

When I have regained a steady heartbeat and gotten used to the pain in my throat, I realize that someone is there with me. A boy is curled up to my side. I can see his brown, fluffy hair and know that it is Louis. His head is resting on my chest and his hand absentmindedly plays with one of my shirt buttons. So, he is awake as well.

My heart jumps in excitement. I have no idea, how I've gotten so lucky. If I have to go through that kind of pain just to wake up to this boy curling up to my body, I would do it. Everyday.

He didn't realize, yet, that I have woken up. His hand that is toying around with my shirt buttons looks so delicate and small. I can smell the scent of his hair. He is so close, so warm. I don't want this moment to stop. So I keep lying there without movement, and just try to savor the moment.

Suddenly, I can hear his voice. "You can't leave me, Hazza. Please," he whispers, barely audible. It seems like he has been repeating this over and over again for quite a long while. I have no idea why, but I know that I am right about it.

A fond smile creeps onto my lips and I slowly reach for Louis' hand to stop him from playing with my shirt and show him that I am awake. "I won't leave you, Louis," I whisper just as quietly, "I promise."

Louis' head flips up in surprise. He looks at me with a shocked expression on his face while his eyes scan me fearfully. His eyes are swollen and red. I don't even want to think about the reason for it.

"You're better," he says in a raspy voice, before he swallows and coughs, "You're awake!" He sounds completely taken off guard. As if he didn't expect it anymore.

My smile grows wider at the sound of his voice. He looks exhausted, just the way I feel. And he looks like he had a pretty tough time too, but he still manages to look beautiful.

I don't know how to respond, so I look down on myself instead. Seeing the way we are cuddled up to each other might be the best thing I have ever seen. His arm is now wrapped around my chest and one of his legs is wedged in between mine. A blanket is only covering our feet, but it is enough. I don't even feel the cold, anymore.

I look back at Louis with a smile. "I don't know," I almost croak, my throat feels so dry, "Am I really awake? I think I might actually still be dreaming."

My words tempt a smile onto Louis' lips before he lightly touches my face and pulls himself up to me until our faces align. "You're not," he says, his eyes wide in shock. He smiles at me but he still seems to be in disbelieve. "I was so worried, Haz," he breathes, sobering up again, "I'm so sorry."

Before responding, I raise my hand and also touch his cheek. I watch my fingers as they graze over his stubble. The way it tingles against my fingertips makes me feel some kind of way. "Don't apologize, Lou," I whisper with a reassuring smile, "Don't worry. I'm fine. I'm here."

"You _are_ ," Louis says and his eyes flicker to my lips. Out of reflex, I lick over them and loop my second arm around Louis' body. Both of us are sobering up pretty quickly now. "I was so worried, H," Louis repeats. Our smiles are long gone. We both are way too preoccupied with other things right now.

I look at Louis' red eyes again and know that he is telling the truth. I feel horrible for what he must've been through. "That's okay," I whisper, "I'm fine, now. You're here with me and I couldn't be better."

When Louis smiles at me again, I can't help but smile, too. We don't even need to say anything else. It's enough that he is here. At some point, I find myself staring at his parted lips while our hands keep caressing each other’s faces, chests, hands... I don't even know how long we are just lying there, letting our hands roam over each other’s bodies while watching the other. It feel so good to have him in my arms. After what feels like hours, Louis pulls himself even further up my body and presses a soft kiss to my sticky forehead. "You need to rest, love," he says to me in a raspy voice. This time the raspiness has nothing to do with the fatigue, though. "It's still a few hours until morning and you've had a rough night. I'll look after you, don't worry," he smiles at me and slowly traces my chapped lips with his thumb, "Just go back to sleep. I'll be here."


	42. Chapter Forty-Two

**Louis' POV**

He made it. I can't believe that he is actually still alive. Last night, I was so sure that I'd killed him. I felt so guilty and helpless, I was so worried. He was in such a terrifyingly bad state when I lay down beside him. I cuddled up to him to feel his warmth for as long as I still had the time. When he took my hand and I knew that he'd woken up, my heart jumped so hard it physically hurt. But I didn't mind the pain. He was all that I could think about.

In the morning, when I told the other four boys that Harry is still alive, they were just as amazed as I was. They started jumping around in relief, joyously screaming at the tent that Harry was still resting in. Before I went back inside to bring Harry some soup, I told the others that Harry and I would take the day off, so he could relax and regain his strength.

I brought him to a nearby creek that runs through the forest at a slow pace, glistening in the sun. We found a spot where the forest doesn't quite reach the edges of the water, giving space for a beautiful glade with grass and flowers. We've been lying here all morning, waiting for the water to be warmed up by the sun. When the water isn't as freezing anymore, I want Harry to have a chance to wash himself after this awful night. I even brought soap.

While we were waiting, I told Harry about everything that happened while he was unconscious (of course leaving out the part where I was crying pathetically at his side. But I think he knows about that, anyway). Harry was shocked about the Grey Skin's suicide. He said that he needs to be buried properly, that it's the right thing to do. Acting respectful. I'm not too sure about that, though. He was some proper scum.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. He is lying on his towel, next to me. He is on his back, his head resting on one arm while the other palm lies flat on his chest. His long legs are stretched out across the towel and he is squinting his eyes a little because the sun is shining right at him. The thing that throws me off about this picture is that he is only wearing his bathing trunks. They're bright yellow. And short. Really short. That's why I turned around to lie on my stomach, long ago. My chin is resting on my crossed arms in front of me to make it easier to not gawk at Harry's trunks the whole time.

When I don't answer immediately, he lifts his hand from his chest to touch my arm lightly. I raise my head from my forearms, prop myself up on my elbows, and take his hand in mine before he can pull it away. He is wearing two rings on his fingers. One on his middle finger, one on his index finger. I start playing with the big golden one and find myself smiling.

"I'm thinking about what a genuinely good person you are," I finally say, "And how incredible it is that you're still alive. I was so lucky that the bottle of liquid I gave to you was the antidote after all. I didn't think I'd ever see your smile again."

When I look at Harry, he flashes an overly exaggerated smile at me. "Still got it," he beams, speaking through his teeth.

I roll my eyes. "Why are you smiling at me now? I didn't say it was pretty, moron," I deadpan and go back to twisting the golden ring on Harry's hand.

Harry's smile drops immediately. "Judging another person doesn't define who they are," he says in a sulky tone, "it defines who _you_ are."

"Where did you get that lame ass comeback from?" I snort, "Wait, did you just google that?"

Harry pushes his bottom lip out in a pout. "Well, I can't google anything if I don't have a phone anymore, can I?" he says huffily.

His sight makes me chuckle. "Aww, tiny Hazza baby can't take jokes," I smirk, "But that doesn't mean that you didn't get that comeback off of Google at some point, nerd."

"Did not," Harry pouts even more.

"Did too, and you know it," I laugh, "don't worry, though. I think it's cute," I tell him and ruffle his curls, like he's a good dog.

Harry's only reaction is a huffy "hmpf".

Suddenly a thought crosses my mind. "Hey, why _don't_ you have a phone? Who goes for a run in an abandoned park in one of the worst parts of the city and doesn't think of taking a phone with them?" I frown, adding in an afterthought, "Hell, who goes for a run period?"

Harry chuckles at my last comment before he answers. "I never take my phone with me for these occasions because," he lowers his voice sarcastically, "I don't know if you've noticed but there are some really dangerous gangs out there that might steal from you, any second," he explains. Then he frowns, "...or apparently, you know, steals ... you... you got that? Steals from you. Steals you. I made a joke," he adds with a grin.

"Ha," I release from my throat, glad he's chill about it, "yeah I see, makes sense," I continue without acknowledging his “joke” any further. Instead, I look at his bony, beautiful hand that is still resting in mine while growing more and more serious each moment, "I'm sorry, by the way," I say under my breath, "for doing this to you. You deserve better."

Harry winces, but then rethinks and shrugs. "That's okay," I says quietly.

"No," I say urgently, "It's not okay! I know it's horrible what we're doing to you. You don't have to pretend like it's okay."

It takes a while for Harry to respond. "Well, it's not okay," he finally says, "But I understand your motives. I've long realized that you have good reasons to do this. It's not ideal, but it is what it is."

I slightly dip my head down out of reflex, immediately being reminded of my chest tattoo. These five words have so much meaning to me and he has no clue.

I shake my head, somewhat astonished by his words. "How can you be so understanding? What we're doing to you..." I shake my head again, beating myself up, "it's cruel. It's not fair."

"True," Harry agrees with a shrug, "but leaving underaged orphans out on the street to nearly starve to death if they can’t manage to join gangs, isn’t fair either. And also having to live in caves or abandoned skate parks with said gangs, isn’t fair. Or treating them like criminals for it. Nothing about this is fair."

I only look at him, my mouth slightly open, holding on tightly to his hand. I feel somewhat stunned at the way he sees the situation.

"I don't like what is happening to me," he continues, "I miss my family and my cat and my job, and I'm worried about my mom crying because she doesn't know that I am fine. But it _is_ happening and it's the system's fault. Not yours, Louis. Do you hear me?"

I still don't know what to say. All I can manage to do is swallow hard. How can he not see the bad guy in me? I'm taking away his freedom.

"You are doing everything you can to look out for me and make me feel comfortable despite the situation," he says as if he heard my thoughts, "You only did this-" he winces again, "kidnap me... because you need to protect your friends. You always look out for them. They are your priority over everything. They depend on you and look up to you so much. I saw it. See it every day. You make them feel save and give them a life, a good life. You're so caring. You're so protective. You're like a big brother to all of them. It's admiring."

He smiles at me with so much affection that I can feel my cheeks blushing. I'm not used to so much appreciation, it almost makes me feel uncomfortable. But at the same time, this is Harry. And he always manages to make me feel comfortable about feelings, it's weird.

"Well..." I begin, not knowing where exactly I'm going with this.

Harry rolls onto his stomach, lying closer to me now, still holding my hand. "What?" he says, looking at me very attentively all of a sudden.

"Do you wanna hear a secret?" I say in a low voice, not looking at Harry. Instead, I distract myself with his hand once more. I don't know where this is coming from. It's not something I usually do, sharing secrets.

"A secret?" Harry asks, caressing the back of my hand with his thumb.

"Hmm..." I nod, feeling breathless.

"Lou," Harry whispers, leaning over and speaking with his lips against my ear, "it's not a secret that you're not _actually_ 5'9."

A scandalized sound escapes my mouth and I slap his hand with mine. "Jerk," I scold him.

He only smirks at me. He takes the hand that slapped him, raises it to his lips, and kisses it gently before putting it back down. He never breaks eye contact with me, during.

I try my best to hide my surprise by ignoring his actions, but my pulse is telling a different story. "Well..." I clear my throat, "A, I _am_ 5'9. And B, I’m talking about a real secret. Something that is actually true and that I have never told anyone. Not even Liam, not even Zayn when I was high."

Harry raises an eyebrow. "Sounds like a big secret," he murmurs.

"It is," I say, before continuing in a lower voice, "But I want to share it with you."

My words make Harry smile. "Then I'm all ears, love," he says quietly to match my tone.

I cough, not knowing where to start or how to phrase it. "Uh... you said, I'm like a big brother to the other gang members, right?" I begin, feeling a bit nervy.

Harry only smiles and nods to let me continue.

"Well... I sorta am..." I stutter. Since when do I stutter?

Harry furrows his eyes in mystification, still giving me the time to explain.

"A-a brother," I clarify and feel myself blushing again, "Big brother."

Before I can feel too uncomfortable about my sudden insecurity, Harry's eyes go wide in comprehension. "You're a big brother," he states excitedly, "You have siblings!"

I didn't expect him to be so excited about it. After all, it's my life. But it really seems like he is happy about that information. "Sister," I nod shyly, "Well, half-sister. I don't remember her much. My mom gave her to the baby's father right after she was born because- you know who... would've probably killed the girl if he'd ever seen her," I say quietly. I hate talking about him. "Amazing that he didn't kill my mother when he found out that she was pregnant from another man," I say in an afterthought.

Harry only looks at me and listens. He's so good at it, it's incredible. He makes it almost feel easy to share this secret with him.

"Last time that I saw my sister, she was just a baby. Just started to walk on her own," a sad smile crosses my lips at the thought of her blonde hair bouncing whenever she fell on her bum.

"What's her name?" he asks in a sorrowful voice.

I look up from our intertwined hands to make eye contact with him. "Charlotte," I smile at him. I haven't said the name out loud in so many years. "But I used to call her Lottie back then and eventually my mom picked it up, too."

Harry starts caressing my hand with his thumb again. "You miss her, huh?" he whispers.

I only hesitate a moment, before I nod my head. "But she won't even remember me. God, she was so small when I last saw her," I stop and snort, "I bet she's an annoying teenage girl with bleached hair, pink fingernails, and tons of make-up, now." I roll my eyes at the thought and laugh.

When I realize that Harry isn't laughing with me, I look over and see him staring at me for a while. "She'd think you're so cool," I finally says, "She'd think you're her cool, fun big brother that she looks up to and secretly wants to be like you. And she'd make sure that all the guys she dates have your approval."

"Ha," I scoff, "then she'd never be dating." Even the thought of that little girl having a guy over makes me cringe.

"Believe me, she would," Harry frowns, "I have some experience with sisters. They date whether you want them to or not."

"Oh yes, you do have experience with sisters," I remember, "But she's older... Do you ever have to ask for _her_ approval on any of your girlfriends?" I smirk at him mischievously.

"Well, she approved of all of my ex-girlfriends," he says slowly and then looks at me intensely, "...but I'm actually not hoping for her approval of girlfriends, ever again."

I can feel my jaw dropping. He doesn't mean it _that_ way, does he?

But there is something about the green of his eyes that makes me feel like he does. The thought makes me uncomfortable... but so very intrigued at the same time. Before I stare too long, and before the feeling of his hand in mine becomes too exciting, I clear my throat and let go of it. "So... do you finally wanna get rid of the disgusting smelly grease all over your body?" I say in an off-hand tone.

Harry laughs good-humoredly. "Alright, I'll get the soap," he stretches and sits up to search for the soap inside our backpack.

I take the opportunity and jump to my feet. "I'll beat you to the water, you slug," I shout while running towards the creek before I cannonball into it, splashing Harry who looks utterly confused and now... dripping wet.


	43. Chapter Forty-Three

**Louis' POV  
**

_I take the opportunity and jump to my feet. "I'll beat you to the water, you slug," I shout while running towards the creek before I cannonball into it, splashing Harry who looks utterly confused and now... dripping wet._

"Hey! That was unfair! I didn't have a chance," Harry frowns, walking towards the water, "And now I'm wet. Rude!"

I laugh, enjoying the water. "Payback for that time we went to the pond with Linda," I call over to him. And okay, I'm not just enjoying the water... also the view. Harry's really short shorts show off his legs and his thigh tattoo. They also hang really low on his hips. This combined with his extremely gorgeous v-line make it almost too easy to guess...

I ogle at his fern leaf tattoos until I lose sight of them as Harry steps into the water. Why did I think bathing together was a good idea, again?

"Oh yeah, I remember that day," Harry says while I approach him slowly, "Seems like a lifetime ago," then he adds in a lower voice, "You hated me back then."

"Still hate you," I say, when I've reached him. I pop a smirk at him and dunk him under water without a warning. "And now wash your ugly perfect princess hair," I say when he has come up again, "and get the filth off of your body."

Harry is still standing close to me. When he smirks, I get the feeling he will dunk me back at any second. But he surprises me. "You could help me..." he says, looking directly into my eyes.

My breath hitches. "Uh..." I stall, before catching myself, "You wish, loser," I shout, turn around and dive into the water, swimming in the cool substance to gain some distance to Harry. When I emerge from the water, a good fifty feet away from him, he is already shampooing his hair. Of course. The water ends just in the middle of his butterfly tattoo. That way, I can see his chest muscles contract as he lifts his hands to his hair. He looks very concentrated, massaging his scalp which actually looks hilarious. But at the same time, so hot.

"Oi, Rapunzel, you're supposed to come after me and dunk me back!" I say to gain his attention.

Harry doesn't stop, though. "I'm sorry, but I'm busy washing my ugly perfect princess hair," he calls sarcastically.

A frown forms on my forehead while I bob around my spot. "You're so lame!" I whine, stretching the last word.

Harry just ignores me, bending backwards to dip his hair into the water and rinse it from the shampoo.

To keep myself distracted, I fill my mouth with water and try to play fountain but I end up only spitting myself in the face. So I think better of it. Now that I don't have anything to do, I can't help but watch Harry again who is now soaping up his torso, running his hands over his chest and his arms. My mouth feels dry.

"And don't think you look sexy, rubbing that soap all over your body," I say and swallow because my voice sounds funny, "Cause it's not. At. ALL," I add and start splashing water in all directions with my arms.

But Harry doesn't even flinch.

This is boring. And frustrating. I want his attention. Why is he ignoring me?

This splashing is ridiculous, so I try a different approach. I let the current of the creek pull me away and start wailing my arms around like a lunatic. "Help!" I scream, "Harry, help me! I'm drowning! Heeelp!"

I splash water in my own face until it runs up my nose, but Harry still doesn't show any reaction, washing his body in peace.

So I stop before I actually drown and groan in annoyance. "Pay attention to me, Hazza!" I call huffily and splash as much water at him as I can, but it doesn't reach him.

Finally Harry looks at me and chuckles. "It's hard to do anything _but_ , right now, to be honest," he smiles fondly.

"But you aren't saving me, yet," I pout huffily, "or even looking at me. You have to worship me, Harold, that's the rule." I splash more water at him.

Harry rolls his eyes but doesn't lose the smile. "Stop being such an attention whore and move your sweet ass over here so I can help you clean it," he laughs.

I choke at his words, swallowing at least two mouthfuls worth of water at once. For a moment, I feel like I'm actually going to drown until I regain control over my body. I furrow my eyebrows and cough up the water that found its way into my windpipe.

Harry winces when he realizes what he just said. "Uh... I mean..." he blushes, and man, I always find that utterly adorable, "...clean you... your body... the whole - of it... not just your-" he clears his throat out of embarrassment. Then he sighs. "Will you just come over here," he says in defeat.

I couldn't be more infatuated with him right now, so I approach slowly. But I keep a mask of annoyance on my face, to hide my fondness from him. "You're really horrible with words, aren't you, Styles," I tell him in an overly casual tone.

He smiles at me shyly as he sees that I'm getting closer. When I'm almost in front of him, he reaches for my arm, to pull me closer until we can both stand on the ground. He doesn't let go of me as we look at each other in anticipation. I don't even know what I am anticipating, but there is definitely something in the air. It feels like it has gotten thicker since I reached Harry. I think my breathing has gone slower, too. It's noticeably harder to breath.

I can't stop staring at his eyes. For some reason, the dark green rings around his bright green irises are so beautiful to me. They make his gaze seem so intense. And I don't mean just now, it always is. Yes, right now it feels like he is looking into my soul, but it's always intense. He always makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world when he looks into my eyes.

It takes all I have to break eye contact and drop my gaze. But when I do, Harry finally raises his hands and starts soaping up my shoulders. It's weird, a weird feeling. Not because it's awkward that he washes me. It actually feels good, gentle. But it’s weird because I can't look at him during.

Instead, my eyes land on Harry's dripping wet hair which is a lot less curly at this state. The tips touch his shoulders as gently as I would want to touch them. Once in a while, I watch a drop or two drip down his hair, onto his skin, and then roll over his chest, down into the water. I can see Harry's chest rise and fall calmly. He's so beautiful.

The next time that I see a drop is about to drip, I raise my hand and catch it with my finger. I let the drop roll down my hand and take the tip of Harry's hair between my fingers, absentmindedly running it over Harry's collarbone like a paintbrush.

At some point, Harry begins to speak, but his voice sounds different than before. Thicker, even deeper. "First time I can see your chest tattoo up close," he says and touches the ink with his fingertips.

When he begins to tentatively retrace the writing, I can feel a light shudder run through my body and goosebumps forming on my skin. I raise my eyes to look at his face again while he slowly moves his fingertips over my skin. Without noticing, he bites his bottom lip but never stops watching his own hands.

My breath becomes shallow while I stare at his pink plum lips, imagining what I could do to them. "It’s not going to come off with soap," I try to joke but it comes out as a croak.

Harry, being the good person he is, takes it anyway and chuckles. He looks me in the eyes again and raises both of his hands to cup my face. "How do you always manage to be sarcastic, no matter what situation?" he smiles at me with crinkles around his eyes.

I raise an eyebrow at him mockingly. "What, isn't this a normal situation, right now?" I say in a pretend clueless tone and smile when he chuckles again.

Harry's hands travel down my neck and shoulders. He averts his gaze and starts concentrating on the task again, soaping up and down my arms. His concentrated face looks so fascinating. Almost a bit intimidating, but I know the complete dork that lurks behind it.

Harry never looks at me while he runs his hands over my body, careful to only touch my shoulders and arms. I know both of us are kidding ourselves. What we're doing here isn't called washing my body. Washing my body would be 100% more efficient and 100% less exciting. He's been soaping up my shoulders and arms for at least 10 minutes. If they aren't clean, I don't know what is.

No, this isn't washing. This is waiting. But waiting for what?

I look at his bottom lip again that is still trapped between his teeth. It almost looks violent, the way the bites down on it.

I want to kiss those lips so badly, and this anticipation is killing me. Now that I’m looking at his lips, I know what we are waiting for, and why we were looking at each other in anticipation since I came over here. I mean, I know that _I_ wanted to kiss him since forever, but now I can feel a spark of hope that maybe he wants to kiss me, too. Maybe I am wrong about it, but maybe I am lucky.

I take a deep breath, using that moment to build up my courage and take a step forward. I put my hands on his hips and pull him the rest of the way towards me. I can only just see his eyes go wide in surprise before I lean in and kiss those gorgeous lips.

I can feel a weight lifting from my chest when I realize that Harry starts responding to the kiss immediately, letting his hands travel back up to cup my cheeks again. His fingertips caress my jawline, making me huff into the kiss in appreciation.

His lips feel so soft, as they wrap around mine, and I can feel his warm breath on my skin. This is thrilling. I didn't feel like this in such a long time. To be honest, I’ve never felt just like this in my life. This is better than anything I did before.

I run my hands down his lower back until they reach the waistband of his shorts, toying around with it and at the same time, keeping him as close as possible. I hum against his lips. "Mmh, I like your trunks," I speak into the kiss, never disconnecting our lips.

Harry chuckles and when he looks into my eyes, his are sparkling in joy. His pupils are as dilated as mine must be.

"Had to restrain myself from drooling over them, all day," I say in a hoarse voice.

Harry smirks while resting his forehead against mine. "You shouldn't have. Restrained yourself, I mean," he whispers and moves his hands down my back, pressing his lips against mine again.

I take the hint and wrap my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss with a groan. Harry picks me up and I wrap my legs around him immediately. This feels so natural. So easy.

When I feel his tongue against mine, I moan into his mouth and can't help but smile when I hear Harry moan, too. I thirstily take his bottom lip between my teeth, before sucking on it lightly. It drives me mad to think that he was biting that same bottom lip just minutes ago, waiting for me to kiss him.

This kiss is so much different from the drunken kiss we shared at the beach. Even though I remember everything, I didn't appreciate it as much, during. It was more of an angry, desperate kiss. Drunken and almost numb. It was great. But nothing like this.

Hearing the tiny huffs and groans whenever I move my tongue tip over a particularly sensitive spot, feeling his fingertips pressing into my thighs and his plum lips kissing mine softly. This is much more than I ever hoped for.

I'm surprised that I'm even still attentive enough to the world around us to notice as someone approaches. But honestly, I was so deep inside that blissful bubble with Harry that I wouldn't have heard anything if the intruder hadn't screamed at the top of his voice.

"Louiiiiiiiiis," I hear Peter screaming. I flinch at the sound and jump off of Harry who immediately lets go of me.

Fortunately, Peter didn't see us. He is just emerging from the trees. He doesn't seem to be suspicious as he stands there, in the middle of the glade, looking at us. "Louis!" he says, "We found something. And you will want to see this."


	44. Chapter Forty-Four

**Louis' POV**

"I'm really sorry for disturbing you guys," Peter says while leading me and Harry back to the camp, "I know you said you're taking the day off so Harry can rest. But we thought you'd really want to see this."

"That's okay," I chuckle lightly.

It honestly isn't okay, though. I still feel a bit dizzy in my head from the kissing. My legs are still shaking with every step I take. I don't know how far we would've gone if we hadn't gotten interrupted, and now we'll never know.

I can still feel Harry's lips on mine, like they're still lingering there, making my cheeks feel hot.

I haven't felt as alive as this for years. I'd always made sure to never let myself get carried away like that again. I thought I could restrain myself from these feelings for the rest of my life. But with Harry, I can't help them. And the worst thing is, since Harry, there are other feelings, too... feelings that make it so damn hard to resist him.

There are two kinds of feelings. Those feelings that I've always had for guys, those feelings that make my pants grow tight and my breath go slow and heavy. And now that I've met Harry, there are these other feelings. Feelings that I've never had before. It feels weird, scary even. But _good_.

I turn around to Harry who is walking directly behind me. He walks unnaturally close to me, his hand almost touching my hip.

His lips still look super pink and soft and swollen from all the snogging. I can practically see my teeth marks in his bottom lip. My lips must look just the same. I'm surprised that Peter didn't seem to notice.

Harry's eyes crinkle as he smiles at me when he realizes that I’ve turned around to him. There is something in his look, though. Something that I've never seen before. Like he knows something, or like he had waited for me to look at him again.

I find myself smiling back at him and quickly bite my lips but the smile doesn't go away. Instead, I sneakily reach for his hand and lace our fingers together, before slowly letting go again. I can't look at him anymore, my heart is beating too fast. But I let myself fall a step back to walk next to him so our shoulders touch.

This is so new to me. I've never felt the urge to behave so weirdly with another person. My body never reacted like this either.

In the corner of my eye, I can see Harry grin like a shitface at my behavior, so I push him away from me playfully, still looking straight ahead. I can hear him chuckle in the back of his throat before he naturally steps back next to me.

We walk in silence, pretending not to notice our touching shoulders and halfway intertwines fingers, until we can see the camp site emerge through the trees.

"Lou," Evan shouts when he sees us approaching, "I told him to leave you guys alone and show it to you tonight but I was outvoted."

He and the other two boys are standing around the bike of the Grey Skin. They're looking at something.

"Don't worry, I'm all rested and revived again," Harry shrugs it off, next to me.

There’s something about his tone. It sounds odd. Did he just? When I dare to look at him sideways, I can see the tiniest of smirks in the corner of his freshly kissed lips and he winks at me. Yup, he totally hinted. In front of people. Is that a new way of flirting? ...because it kinda works for me.

I remind myself to close my jaw and stop looking at Harry longingly, before we reach the others. They seem to be dismantling the vehicle of the enemy to check for other weapons or useful things.

"You do look like you're glowing," Evan smiles at the boy beside me, but doesn't seem to make anything off it.

I step around the bike, positioning myself opposite to Harry and look at him. I'm not sure what Evan means by glowing but he does look beautiful. Very handsome. With his damp hair resting on his shoulders, his lips pink, and his eyes shining while he smiles.

"So," Peter motions towards Evan when nobody moves or speaks, "Let's show him the thing."

"Oh, please don't let this be some lame schoolboy prank where you flash us your dick," I roll my eyes. I wouldn't be surprised by these idiot kids.

The boys giggle immaturely until Evan catches himself. "No, nothing like it," he chuckles, "Actually we don't really know what to make of it."

"Yes," Peter agrees, "it was with the other stuff inside his seat. We already found it last night. But we didn't think much of it."

"Yeah, but now I looked at it more closely," Evan begins, "I really don't know what it means..."

"How about you show us, instead of making a fucking Hitchcock movie out of it with all the suspense," I say sarcastically.

"Yes! Sorry," Evan flinches and reaches in his back pocket to retrieve a folded map, it seems.

He unfolds it and flattens it out on the seat of the bike, running his palm over it a couple of times. It's a map. A map of the city and its surroundings to be more precise. I recognize the shape of it immediately. I can see the city center where Burke has his shop and where all the pubs are that we go to, occasionally. The beach of the Shark Heads lies in the south, the rich part of the town in the east. Our woods are in the north-west, beyond the borders of the city.

It looks like an ordinary map, until you look more closely and see that someone has drawn on it with a red sharpie. There are roundish bubbles, x-es, and question marks scattered all over the map.

Most of the x-es and question marks are situated somewhere inside those bubbly shapes which look like they enclose particular parts of the town or the woods around it.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and look up to Harry, to see what he thinks of it. He peers at the map in front of us intensively, his eyes narrowed in thought. He looks good like that. I know it's not the right time to be noticing stuff like that but it's the truth.

His eyes flick up to meet mine, surprising me. I don't even have the time to pretend like I was looking at the map the whole time.

He smiles when he realizes that I was watching him. It almost looks like he is pleasantly surprised about it, like he didn't expect me to give him the time of day.

"We thought they might be looking for something," Evan says, deep in thought.

"Maybe they lost a member and try to find him again," Peter suggests.

Harry looks at me and I know he doesn't agree.

"What do you think, H?" I ask him, curious about what's going on inside his head.

Harry hums as if he isn't quite sure himself. "We have to think like the owner of the map to know what he used it for," he says in his slow, glue-like voice, "There are some areas that seem more important than the rest of the map. They have been marked by those lines, encircling them."

I nod my head in agreement. "And then there are those x-es. That means that he knew the exact position of whatever he was looking for," I add.

"Yes," Harry says and taps his finger to the map, "and these question marks seem to be positions or areas that he hadn't been quite sure of or was planning on checking out."

"You're a very organized thinker, Harold," I smirk and wink at him. I love using that name on Harry because it always seems to make him blush. Probably because I usually use the nickname to tease him. "I bet you were a proper model student in school."

Harry shrugs, trying to hide his blush. "Not exactly," he says his eyes shining at me, "didn't really know how to comply with rules."

"Oooi," I holler, "Harry the bad boy, who would've thought."

I can't believe how great it feels to tease him like that. For some reason it makes me feel giddy and excited.

"Well, I just never liked to be anything other than myself. I feel weird if I can't be myself," Harry explains, "I can't just sit there all day doing what somebody tells me to do."

Harry's subtle blush has vanished completely as he runs his fingers through his hair, making it fall to his right, handsomely.

"I bet all the teachers loved you either way," I say knowingly, "you're too charming to be disliked by anyone."

Harry pops a smile, proudly. "I do know my way around detention-" he says but gets interrupted by Evan midway through the sentence, bringing us back into reality. I had already forgotten about the map.

"Louis. Isn't that our part of the forest?" he says, pointing to the top left of the map. I had already seen that but Evan runs his index finger along a red line enclosing our area completely.

"Yes, it is," I frown and bend over to look at it more closely. I am trying to find the exact location of our cave.

My worst fears are confirmed when I find the location directly beneath a red x. "They know where we are. The x-es are the locations of the gangs," I breathe, pointing at the x over our cave before a groan escapes my throat and I punch my fist against the motor bike seat.

I can see some of the boys flinch, but then Harry takes my fist in both of his hands and opens it carefully. "Hey hey, didn't you tell me that you are sure, the Grey Skin who followed us is the only one who knows about our whereabouts?" he says calmly, seeking eye contact with me.

I only shrug my shoulders in response.

"See," he smiles hesitantly, "Maybe he was the one drawing the x over our cave because he had just found it. He was probably assigned for the encircled part on the map where your cave lies. That's why he was there to see us leaving in the first place. Maybe they are trying to locate all the residences of the other gangs, too." He squeezes my hand reassuringly before letting it go again.

I have to think about his words for a minute. I do remember figuring out that the dead Grey Skin was lurking around our cave alone when he must have seen us and followed us here. But what if they knew our location all along and he was just something like a chaperone of some sort. Then again they would've already attacked us if they knew our location. Gangs in our city aren't the type to sit something out. If they want to attack or initiate a fight, they'd do it now rather than later. My shoulders relax a little.

"Alright," I nod my head, "tomorrow is our last day here. Let's use it well and then go home and see what the others have to say about it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Liam's POV**

"Look at us grown-ups, carpooling to work," I joke, wheeling the Jeep along a narrow pathway through the trees. Niall is sitting in the passenger seat, still stuffing his face with some breakfast leftovers.

"Yeh, at the arse crack of dawn while the rest of those twats are still sleeping," Niall huffs, "We're like the parents of thirty little brats." He's not in a good mood today.

I take his hand in mine jokingly, with the intention of making him laugh. "Aww, Nialler, but imagine, we'd make a good mommy and daddy. You being the mommy of course," I wink and intertwine our fingers.

Before I know what I have done, Niall's body stills and he looks at me in surprise. I quickly release his hand and grip the wheel really hard. This is not something that people are supposed to do. We don't joke about these things. It's just not taken well. In fact, Niall is taking it way better than most people would.

The idea of avoiding and condemning other kinds of love has always been weird to me. It's hard for me to remember that we are not supposed to take the topic lightly.

"Sorry," I mumble without looking at the blonde lad.

"Don't be," Niall says, surprising me to no extent, "It's absolutely stupid to make a big deal out of something like this. No harm done, mate. Can we just... stop behaving like retarded idiots? I'm sick of this childish game of 'no homo' that everyone seems to be playing. It's boring and frankly despicable."

I open my mouth to respond, but no sound comes out. So I close it and open it again. How can he talk about this so openly? How long did he think about it that way? I think I have never respected him more for his courage than in this moment.

"How..." I begin, still somewhat speechless.

"Harry and I talked about it a while ago. It made me realize that I am not the only one who thinks about it this way, and that there is no harm in thinking this way," Niall explains.

He doesn't even seem scared about my opinion, or what I will do about it. We have been best friends for years, he is one of the people I trust most. But that has never stopped anyone from beating up those who display their opinion this boldly. Of course I have no intention whatsoever to go off on him like that. I am just so taken aback that I am not the only one who thinks about it that way. And Niall said Harry thinks so, too?

"How do you talk about this with a guy you just met instead of me who you've known for years?" I wonder.

Niall shrugs. "Harry is different," he says, "He has his own mind. And it just came up the way it came up now. It was easy talking about it with him. He kinda forced his opinion on me if you will," he chuckles, "in a good way. I would've never dared to admit it like that. Just like I forced it on you, didn't I."

"Uh... yeah, I guess," I say, "so... same page here?"

"Yup, same page," he says, as we arrive at a crossroad, still in our woods.

"Wait, stop for a minute," Niall's tone changes, all of a sudden, "Can you see that, too?" He points through his window at the big oak tree that stands out from the rest of the trees around.

I know what he means immediately. Someone has removed a huge piece of bark and carved into the tree. It would not look as suspicious if we didn't know that tree so well. When we just moved into these parts of the forest, we used to take this tree as a clue that we're on the right track.

The symbol that has been carved into the tree is an arrow, piercing two lines that curve upwards and touch in the middle.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I say with a frown on my face.

"Looks like a bird to me," Niall shrugs, "You know, the way children draw flying birds."

"The arrow points into the direction that we are coming from," I note.

"Maybe someone is trying to bookmark their hunting area?" Niall suggests.

I huff, feeling uncertain, and start the car again, continuing our trip to the city. "Who knows, what people do these days," I sigh. It's much too early for me to find the will to care, "There's just one reason why I even got up for work today," I smile before continuing, "I'm having a lunch date with Sophia today."

Niall whistles at that. "A lunch date, huh?" Niall says in mock amazement, "Sounds like a big step in your relationship. Did she already introduce you to her parents?"

"Shut up, shrimp," I grin, "I'm really excited for it. She's so far out of my league. I can't believe she said yes! I mean I did use the word date when I asked her, and she still said yes." I shake my head in disbelieve. I am still as stunned as I was right after she agreed on the date.

"What are you doing at work, today?" I ask him just to change the topic. For one day, I embarrassed myself enough by drooling over a girl I just met.

"Probably just the usual," Niall answers and yawns, "Trying to distract everyone else from the Styles case. There is nothing more important happening at the moment, though. That petty little death of a petty little gang leader doesn't impress them when there is a shitload of money involved which the Styles family offers."

"Oh yeah, the Styles case," I sigh, "Is it weird that I had almost forgotten about that? It doesn't feel like Harry is a hostage anymore."

"Not weird at all," Niall shakes his head, "I feel like I've been friends with him for ages. I forget about the kidnapping part all the time."

"And why wouldn't you," I say, driving the car through brighter woods now as we reach the edge of the forest, "He walks around with us like any other member of the gang. He's part of us, now. Only thing that surprised me a little was that Louis even chose him to join him on the hunting trip, instead of you like always. Harry can't even shoot."

"I don't think Louis chose Harry because of his hunting skills," Niall chuckles, "And Harry said, he won't touch a bow even if Louis forced him to."

"But why would he take him then? He's just a burden on a trip like that. And he could escape a lot easier when it's just Louis to watch over him," I say.

"Hm, I just think they are both good for each other, at the moment," Niall answers pensively, "I think it's good that they're spending so much time. Louis seems happier when he is with Harry. I think he needs it right now. That's why he wanted him to come. They are both- wait Liam, stop for a second."

"What? Why?" I say but stop the car nonetheless. We were about to exit the woods before I halted at the very edge.

"I don't know what's going on today," Niall says, pointing out of his window again.

There is something wrapped around a nearby tree, right next to the pathway. It has a plain grey color and is knotted together at the front, on about eye level.

"Looks like a scarf. Maybe someone lost it in the woods and another put it up around the trunk so it doesn't get all muddy," I shrug, and am about to move along.

"Yeah, wait," Niall says, already opening the car door, "I'll get it for us, we could probably use it."

I roll my eyes but wait for him to undo the knot. All I want to do is get to work and make sure my boss doesn't touch innocent girls again, and spend as much time with Sophia as I can. I literally can't think about anything else anymore. What is happening to me?

"Liam!" Niall calls for me, after a while. Has that oaf still not managed to undo the knot? "Liam, you might wanna see this."

I groan and roll my eyes in annoyance. It's not even 7 a.m. and I am already supposed to run through the woods?

"What is it?" I grunt at the blonde kid when I join him by the tree.

"Look at that," Niall says and points through the trees, "I wouldn't have seen it if I didn't stand right here. It's well hidden by all those bushes."

I follow his eyes and spot a camouflage-colored tarp a few yards behind the tree line. It really seems to be hidden well. It covers something that seems to be only about three feet tall. I have never seen something like this in these woods before.

I walk closer, almost feeling spooky, but mostly curious. What is it about all these weird discoveries today?

I reach the tarp and tentatively grab one of the corners to lift it, so I can take a look at what is hidden beneath. When I see it, my eyes widen in alarm.

"Niall," I say and turn around to him, "guess we'll be late for work today."


	45. Chapter Forty-Five

**Louis' POV**

Some things just happen, without any warning signs. You don't get to prepare, you don't know where it came from, taking you completely off-guard. That's just how I feel when, out of the blue, Evan brings up a topic over dinner (a wild turkey that Peter proudly brought back from the hunt today) that was entirely unexpected.

"Louis?" he raises his head to look at me, "Please, can we make Harry part of our gang? He's so nice and... I don't want him to leave."

My head snaps up to look at Harry who is nibbling on a turkey leg with a man-bun keeping his hair out of his face. I desperately try to evaluate his reaction. He doesn't move an inch, his face looks emotionless, almost as if he didn't hear. Why did Evan have to ask this question out of literally nowhere? Doesn't he get that it's not a very wise topic to address while Harry is around?

I don't really know how to respond. I feel so guilty. I feel more and more guilty every day. I don't know how long I can still keep this up while continuing to get closer to him with every passing day. At the same time, I don't know how long we still absolutely have to keep him with us against his will. I can’t just let him go like that. _You don't even want him to leave, Louis_ , a voice in my head tells me, _you know that if you'd let him, he'd be gone in a minute. Never looking back. But you don't want that, do you? You like having him around. You wouldn't even let him go if the time came._

I shake my head to myself. No. I would. I would let him go. This is just the guilt talking. At least, I hope.

"Evan," I finally say in a quiet voice, "He-Harry doesn't need to stay with us. He has a family that loves him. He doesn't need a gang."

"But maybe we need him," Evan protests.

I shake my head again. "That's not our decision, pal," I say without looking at Harry who is now following the conversation, too. I don't dare to check for his reactions. "Wouldn't you rather go home to your family if you had the chance?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No. Evan," I say and try to stay neutral, "We won't keep him longer than we need to."

Evan almost looks upset. "But when will that-"

"Evan," Harry speaks up, to my surprise even smiling at the boy, "Don't worry. You'll be fine... let's- just not talk about it until then, okay?" I involuntarily frown at him. Something tells me, he just said this to end the topic. I don't blame him. In fact, I'd be just as relieved if we changed the topic right about now. I don't know when we will have to let Harry go. Niall will tell us as soon as the police has shelved Harry's case.

"I'm going to bed!" I announce before anyone can continue with the topic or start one that's even worse. I am really tired, so the decision of going to bed might not even be a bad one.

When I get up, I realize in horror that Harry is getting up with me. He wants to have a word with me about it in private. And it's not going to be a light-hearted conversation.

"I'll go, too," he says without looking my way. He _so_ wants to pick a bone. He looks mad, or maybe determined.

I clear my throat and turn around quickly, not waiting for Harry to catch up when I rush to our tent. I slip inside and, all of a sudden, don't know what to do with myself. I know Harry will join me any second. What am I supposed to do? Take off my clothes? Go straight to bed? Chat with him a little about koala bears? Pretend like I don't feel guilty for keeping him captive?

I aimlessly rummage through my backpack while trying to come up with a plan. My motions almost become frantic as I toss pieces of clothing over my shoulder and shake the whole thing violently. Without knowing why, I repeatedly cruse under my breath and yank the zip open wider.

"Uh... is everything okay?" I hear Harry's deep voice next to the entrance and stop short.

What am I even doing? What's wrong with me?

I turn around to him slowly and see him standing there, arms relaxed at his sides and looking at me with slightly parted lips. I must look like a maniac. Where the hell did this mental breakdown come from?

"Err, yeah, fine. Great. Awesome," I force myself to smile at him and quickly gather all my scattered clothes to stuff it back into the bag, "Magnificent."

I zip up the backpack again and slump myself onto the make-shift bed, hiding my miserable face in the pillows.

"Magnificent?" I hear Harry chuckle and hesitantly peek up into his amused eyes.

"I don't know why I said that," I mumble against the pillow with a frown. "I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm behaving weirdly and I have no idea why."

"Don't worry," Harry smiles and sits down, too, crossing his long legs, "normally, I am the one who doesn't know what he's doing and how to behave. You'll get used to it. I usually just wing it. I'm pretty subtle about it, too. It's barely noticeable when I get awkward."

I raise an eyebrow at him. Point proven.

The bloke chuckles knowingly, taking off his shoes. "What I'm trying to say is," he says, neatly positioning the shoes at the end of the bed, "you can be your normal self again, I'm not weirded out by you or something."

I wait a moment before sitting up again. "I'm sorry, I think I was just surprised that you followed me," I confess, "I thought you are mad or something."

"Mad?" Harry frowns, "Why would I be mad?"

I shrug my shoulders without looking at him. I will certainly not bring up the topic of holding him captive, again.

Harry sighs and casually takes his tight jeans off, while I pointedly stare in the opposite direction, trying hard to fight the blood rushing up my neck. "The amount of times that we think the other is mad or that we actually are mad at each other has become at least worrisome, don't you think?" he says, putting on his dark blue sweats and slipping under a blanket.

A choked up laugh escapes my throat. "Yeah... borderline compulsive, I'd say," I chuckle. Harry smiles at me. "So you didn't come here to punch me in the face?" I halfway joke and try not to be too conscious about the fact that Harry is only like three feet away as I decide to change my clothes as well.

Harry's openly stares at my crotch as I get up and change out of my trousers, but I don't think he even realizes. Me and him have changed in front of each other loads of times in these past weeks, but never this close to each other. And not with a kiss like the one today fresh on our minds.

"I did want to talk to you, though," Harry says when I sit down, his eyes on my face again.

"Is something wrong?" I ask off-handedly and lean back against the canvas of the tent.

Harry's eyes catch mine and hold the gaze for a moment as if he was trying to communicate without words. "Lou," he finally sighs when I don't react.

"What?" I cross my arms defiantly. What is this all about?

"Louis," he starts again. His voice is more quiet now, but very certain. "We have to talk about earlier today..."

No.

"And we have to do it sooner rather than later," he continues when I don't react.

"What is there to talk about?" I say defensively. I don't want to talk about it. Talking about it will make me think about it. And I can't think about it. It will spoil everything. It will make it real.

Harry purses his lips. "Don't be like that," he says calmly.

"Like what," I snap, very well aware of the fact that I am overreacting.

"Like that," he gestures towards me, "As soon as you encounter something that makes you feel uncomfortable, you hide behind that mask. It doesn't work on me. Everyone else might think this is just the way you react, typical Louis Tomlinson. Just his temper running wild. But it's not that easy, is it. I can see through it. You're trying to block out bad and scary things, and that's the easiest way." He crawls closer to me, sitting next to my legs, and starts playing with the elastic band of my sweats around my ankles. It tickles and I am certainly not happy about it, but I don't move my feet away. "But sometimes you have to get through the tough patches to really enjoy the nice moments. If we just talk about it now, we don't have to talk about it ever again or feel weird anymore. I don't have to worry about what you are thinking just as much as you don't have to worry about what I am thinking."

"Well gladly, I don't worry about whatever you are thinking," I say and clear my throat, "You can think whatever you like. If I worried about what other people are thinking all day, I'd never be able to take care of 30 people. I'd have to invent a 48 hour day," I force a chuckle, trying to keep the conversation light, even though I know that I'm failing miserably, "I'm very fine never knowing what other people think of things."

Harry stops his hands for a second to look at me with judging eyes. "I think you worry a whole lot about what other people think, Louis. Be honest," he says.

"I don't have the time for that. And frankly, Harry, I don't have the time for whatever conversation we are having right now," I say and quickly think of an excuse, "I still have to figure out a training schedule for the boys tomorrow. It's our last day, we have to make it count."

"You didn't need a training schedule for them before," he points out.

"But I do now, okay," I say but don't move to get a notebook or a pen.

Silence casts over us for a good three minutes, in which the only voices we hear are those of the boys outside. None of us look at the other. I don't know where the heavy feeling is coming from but it doesn't feel good. At some point, I’m not even sure about Harry's presence anymore, if it wasn't for his hand that is still wrapped around my ankle, his thumb lightly gazing over a tiny part of exposed skin.

"You know, the first time, days ago... I wasn't sure what to make of it because you were so drunk," Harry says quietly and it comes so unexpected that I almost miss it, "I mean, I always knew you didn't do it as a mistake or because you thought I was someone else. But I didn't know how deep that part was hidden inside you. Whether it was your own choice to hide it or whether you just couldn't help it-"

"Harry," I interrupt him, "what are you talking about?" He is scaring me. Why does he have to push it like this? Of course I know exactly that he is talking about me being gay, but what scares me is his certainty. He is so sure about it. He doesn’t seem to have one doubt about the fact that I am gay. It scares me more than I care to admit, because I must be extremely obvious with my actions if he is so certain about my feelings for men.

"After today... I think I know better," he continues without answering my question, "I don't know how long you've known it yourself, but I can promise you that you don't have to be scared or ashamed."

Suddenly his fingers around my ankle feel heavy, like a trap. I need him to stop talking.

"Harry, stop it," I say without looking at him.

"No. We are talking about this," he replies.

"There is nothing to talk about."

"Yes, there is," Harry insists, "You and I both know it. If we don't talk about it, we'll feel miserable and turn that moment today into something bad. I can't let that happen. There is nothing bad about it. I don't know about you, but to me this is all completely new. I never knew this side of me, and honestly," he stops to move his fingers an inch further up my calf, inhaling noticeably, "it feels amazing."

"Haz," I plea quietly, "Don't do this. Don't ruin it like this. Don't make me hate to be alone with you," my eyes fall to his hand, "Don't make me hate your touch... don't make me want to flinch every time your fingertips graze over my skin," I look him in the eye again to emphasize my next sentence, "Don't make me never want to lose control again when I'm with you."

Harry's lips slightly part while his green eyes stare into mine.

"I don't want you to hate my touch," Harry says in a raspy voice, pushing his thumb beneath my trouser leg to make a point. His fingertip feels light and cool, making tiny goosebumps raise on my skin.

I don't know how to reply. I want his touch so bad. And his lips. When my eyes automatically fall to his lips, his tongue darts out to lick over them. They always look so pink and soft and plum, it's unfair. How am I supposed to resist? I want to feel them on mine... feel them everywhere actually.

But he can't know that. I'm trying to spare us, spare him. If he knew how people treat you when you're gay, if he had felt it like I felt it, he'd understand. My selfish desires aren't worth the pain he would have to go through. Him being beaten half to death and abandoned by his own family, I have to protect him from that. I can't do this to him.

"There is nothing to talk about, Harry," I repeat in a grave tone, "It happened, we can't take it back. It's done."

"I don't want to take it back, Lou. And I know you don't either," Harry says.

Why does he make these ridiculous assumptions about me all the time? Who does he think he is? "You know nothing about me, Styles," I hiss, getting irritated about his persistence.

He doesn't seem bothered much. "But I know that-"

"No, Harry!" I yell, not caring about the guys outside, "You don't, you've know me for what? A few weeks now? Well, take a guess, there is more to me than a stupid angry gang leader who didn't have a good fuck for at least half a century... I know that's what everyone is thinking! No, you don't know me," I lower my voice again, "and you can be happy about that."

"But I'm not, Louis. I want to know you," Harry says with an angry crease on his forehead. He doesn't back away and it's pissing me off. "I don't think any of these things about you. But if you always keep stuff to yourself, you'll never be happy. It will always haunt you. I'm not asking you to read me your biography," he sighs and pulls his hand away, leaving my ankle cold and alone, "All I'm asking is that we talk about that kiss."

I really hate him. So much. "Okay, so you wanna talk about the kiss, huh?" I challenge him, being careful not to raise my voice to high, "Let's talk about the kiss then." In a moment of lacking self-control, I grab onto his shirt and pull his lips against mine.

It feels just as great as it did a few hours ago. Harry gasps into my open mouth in surprise as my hands pull him onto my lap by the back of his thighs. He clearly didn't expect it, but then again, I didn't either.

While Harry loops his arms around me and one hand loses itself in my hair, our tongues begin to fight for dominance. Even though it feels just as amazing as it did earlier today, this kiss is different. It feels way more heated. I feel thirsty for his touch and hungry for the little noises he makes as I roam his thighs and eventually his ass with both of my hands.

I barely pull away to look into his eyes, my lips still touching his. "I'm so not enjoying this," I lie. When I kiss him again, a desperate moan escapes my lips and I twist my arms around Harry's waist to pull him even closer.

"That so?" Harry breaths into my mouth, quickly capturing my bottom lip in between his, "That's not what your _friend_ 's been telling me," he says and rocks his bum against my already hard cock to emphasize.

I hiss and finally beat Harry in our fight for dominance, entering his mouth with my tongue. The fabric of our two loose sweatpants make it really easy for me to feel all his shapes. I grab onto his hips, pulling them flush against mine which is when I notice his erection pressing against my lower stomach. My hips jerk up involuntarily, drawing a strangled moan from Harry.

That's when he starts grinding his hips down into mine, making our clothed cocks rub against each other at an excruciatingly slow pace. "Well, _you_ don't seem excited at all, do you, Harold," I moan, referring to his hard-on, and palm his butt to move him against me faster.

"Shit, Louis," Harry pants, letting his head fall onto my shoulder, "...not going to last long. Feels so good."

His words send shivers down my spine. I'm definitely not going to last long either. I haven't had this amount of action in ages and I've been wanting this for weeks, and just hearing him quietly moan into my ear is driving me mad.

Guided by my hands, Harry picks up speed. When I start rocking my hips up in the same rhythm to meet him, an especially loud moan escapes me. "Fuck," I curse under my breath, "Fuck, Haz. You feel so fucking amazing... shit... 'm close."

"Shhht," Harry nestles his face in the crook of my neck and places his palm firmly over my mouth, "They might hear..." To keep himself from moaning out loud, he presses his lips against my neck and starts sucking and biting my skin.

I know this is going to result in a visible bruise tomorrow, but right now I couldn't care less. It feels so good, I might be seeing stars. I want him so bad. He doesn't know how starved I was for his touch. Feeling his ass grind against my crotch creates wicked images in my head.

I can feel Harry trembling on top of me, gasping for air every so often against my skin, until his hips jerk forward uncontrollably and he comes in his pants like a 14 year old, rubbing against his pillow.

I can't blame him. I'm so fucking close, too. I don't want him to stop. But he does, raising his head and looking at me with hazy eyes. He doesn't hesitate long before he lowers the waistband of my sweats enough to reveal my still throbbing dick and palms it with the hand that had been covering my mouth, and is now soaked in my own salvia. He covers my mouth with his other hand instead and immediately starts jerking me off, never breaking eye contact. His forehead touches mine, his lips are so close. He looks so fucking good and that hand! It only takes a couple of flicks with his wrist and a rub over the head with his thumb, and I'm reaching my high, too, covering Harry's hand and both of our shirts in white spurts of cum, while Harry is rubbing me through it lazily.

I don't know how long we sit there, panting. Harry on top of my lap, foreheads touching, arms twisted around each other. I can't let go of him, I won't let go of him. I don't know what to think and how to deal with this later, but right now, looking into Harry's eyes, I don't care about any of it.

"You drive me crazy, Tomlinson," he whispers when both of our breaths have calmed down drastically.

A smile appears on his lips and I lean forward to capture it with mine. It makes me happy, kissing smiling lips. Especially these pink, soft ones. "Tell me about it," I smirk and gently run my thumb over his cheek. "Let's go to sleep, ey?" I suggest and shuffle him off of my lap.

I lay down and pull the curly-haired boy onto my chest which he kisses immediately and chuckles. "Nice talk," he jokes and pulls the covers over our spent bodies.


	46. Chapter Forty-Six

**Harry's POV**

I've been up for a while now. Couldn't sleep. There's so much on my mind. Good things mostly, but also scary things.

I can faintly smell both of our sweat from the night before when I shuffle a bit closer to him, but I don't mind. Actually, I find it kind of sexy. It brings back images from last night which I might have dismissed as a wet dream if it wasn't for the dried stains that I can see on his shirt and the dark hickey on his lower neck. I can still feel a tingle run down my spine when I think about the way Louis looked in that moment of absolute pleasure.

Of course, the lead-up to the whole thing wasn't ideal. I would've felt a lot better if we had talked about the kiss properly, and _then_ got off together. But I'm hoping that we will talk about everything as soon as he wakes up.

I do feel somewhat guilty about the way it went down, though. It had taken me completely off guard when he pulled me onto his lap to kiss me. At first, I was way too surprised to know what was going on and what to think. It just felt so good. God, it'd never been as turned on by any of the girls I've ever been with. I never got this excited before. I mean, we didn't even have sex and it was probably still the hottest thing I've ever experienced.

I didn't know that being with a guy would be so different. I actually didn't think, being with a guy was an option at all. All I've ever known was guys being with girls and thus, everyone I've ever been with were female. I had no idea that being with a guy would make my blood race that much faster. Feeling Louis touch me and seeing him respond to me was so much more intense than anything I've ever felt with a girl.

While I know that he enjoyed it too, I can't help but feeling guilty about the fact that he never admitted to anything up until the point where we were both already sweaty and panting.

My eyes fall on the hickey, decorating his neck. Those were my lips, my teeth. All my work. I don't know why this is so fascinating to me, but my eyes light up as I lift my hand to run my fingertips over it.

I feel like a whole new person, like I've never experienced physical contact before. I'm learning so much about myself lately, just by spending time with this boy. Have I even been touched by anyone else before? I don't know. It doesn't seem to matter anymore.

After drooling over the look of that hickey for at least fifteen full minutes, I can feel Louis stir next to me before he blinks his eyes open.

They immediately zero in on my face and to my pleasant surprise, his arms pull me closer almost reflexively.

"Morning sunshine," I exaggeratingly smile at him.

"Hey," Louis replies in his thick morning voice and rubs the back of his hand over his eyes, "uhh, how long have you been awake?"

I shrug my shoulders and prop my head up with my arm to make eye contact easier. "Just for a little while," I say, trying to sound as casual as possible, "Did you have a good sleep?"

He cracks a smile at me, before nodding his head. "Very good one," he says and yawns loudly.

"Really?" I smile happily, "What woke you up then?"

Louis tilts his head down at a weird angle, creating a double chin beneath his jawline as he tries to look at something that his gaze can't reach. "The weird tickling sensation on my neck that has yet to notice I'm awake and stop," he smirks and gives me a pointed look.

That's when I realize that I'm still brushing my fingertips over Louis' neck. "Oops," I whisper and stop my fingers from moving.

When Louis winks at me cheekily, I graze over the spot once more before pulling my hand away. "Sorry, I was just wondering what fight you must've gotten into, last night, to have such a vicious bruise on your neck this morning," I joke. I swear, I'm getting better at those.

Louis' raises his eyebrows in realization and touches his neck with his fingertips. "Probably looks like your wound from the other night," he mumbles and tilts my head slightly to the side to get a good look at the back of my neck. I have no idea what the wound even looks like. I just know that it started itching really bad at some point yesterday. "It looks so much better," Louis says with relief in his voice, one hand under my chin, the other pushing my long hair out of the way, "It's still a really dark bruise... a huge one... but the swelling is gone and most of the red lines are gone, too."

"Oh," I say. I didn't realize how gross it must've looked like. I thought it was simply a puncture wound from the arrow.

"Does it hurt?" he says, gingerly brushing his fingertips over it.

I shake my head no, unable to say anything. He must've been so worried about me, I can see it in his eyes. The way he looks at me to make sure I am not sugar-coating anything. Or as if he is still scared that the symptoms might return. He doesn't even know how much of a caring person he really is.

"Just itches a bit," I say quietly, because his face is so close to mine, "I think it's healing."

Louis quizzically looks into my eyes for a moment before he checks the wound once more. Eventually, he pulls his hands away and I settle back down, resting my head on his shoulder.

This trip has been great so far (except for the time that I almost died). I don't want it to end. But I know that today is the last day. I just hope I can spend as much time with Louis as possible. 

Of course just then, Louis remembers the time. He groans tiredly. "I gotta do a lot of training with the boys, today. I haven't done half of the things, I had planned for them," he says and tilts his head to the side so his lips touch my forehead when he continues, "Some guy kept me awfully busy by getting himself poisoned on the first day."

I chuckle into his shoulder. "Well, that guy is really sorry," I reply, "he didn't _intent_ to almost get himself killed."

"That's okay," Louis smiles against my skin, "he's fine now, feeling very warm and alive right here in my arms."

I chuckle happily, close my eyes and pull him closer to me. I do feel very fine. Perfect even.

"Can't you just let the guys practice on their own like before, so we don't have to leave the tent, today?" I suggest with next to no hope.

"Unfortunately, no," Louis says with a tiny laugh, "Liam and Zayn would kick me in the arse if they'd learn that I've wasted the whole trip, not teaching the boys anything and instead lazing around with you, all day."

I pull my lips into a pout that he can't see. "But just think about all the things we could do," I try to convince him, "Sleep all day, stay right here, cuddled up like we are now. You could listen to a whole set of knock-knock jokes that I came up with this morning while you were sleeping," I smile and begin fondling with his biceps while plucking up some courage, "We could try and re-enact last night... or continue..."

It might be due to the anticipation that I am feeling, but it seems like minutes before Louis reacts. He sighs. "Harry, we finally have to stop this," he says emotionlessly, "What's done is done, but we can't keep doing this."

There’s a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. That's exactly the reaction that I was dreading. I try to stay positive. "Why not? It's our own business what we do. We can do whatever we want," I say without looking at him, but also without moving my head from his shoulder.

"But I don't want to do this," Louis says and I can feel his arm loosen around me.

In reaction to his words, I can physically feel a stinging pain run through my chest. I finally sit up and try to get some distance to him. "You don't?" I say in disbelief, "You know, I was there last night. I know you enjoyed it. You wanted it."

Louis pushes himself up to lean against the tent canvas just like last night. "Don't try to tell me what I want and what I don't want," he says blandly, "You're not inside of my head so don't think you can make assumptions about me. If I say I didn't like it, you'll have to deal with it and leave me alone."

"Lou," I try to approach him by staying level-headed, "I get it if you don't want anyone else to know. I've lived in this city, too. I know that we're not exactly accepted by others. I know it might be dangerous for us to tell someone else. I've seen what happens to people like us, but-"

"People like us?" Louis interrupts me, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "What does that even mean? We're normal people. Like anyone else. There's nothing about us that other people might condemn us for."

I sigh in exhaustion. I'm getting tired of dealing with Louis' weak-ass denials. He's probably the worst liar I've ever met. "Of course, we're normal people, Louis," I tell him, "That doesn't mean that there isn't something about us that other people think is abnormal or unnatural.. or that makes us unworthy of living.. Why am I even explaining that to you?" I half-way say to myself, "Louis, I know it might seem scary. But think about how good it felt last night. Or how good it felt this morning, just being close. This thing we have isn't just about getting off, and you know it. I'm aware that we can't just walk around town, holding hands, but that doesn't matter to me."

A deep frown has set on Louis' forehead while I was speaking. "I don't mind cuddling with you like we did this morning," he says, "We're just cuddling. Luke and Ashton do it all the time, why can't we? But it doesn't mean I'm gay. What we did last night doesn't mean that I am gay," he says, stressing every word of the sentence individually, "It doesn't mean anything. I'm not gay... and you aren't gay either. We were just confused and loaded because both of us didn't have sex in a while, and so we had to get rid of our blue balls somehow. You're not gay," he repeats as if to reassure me, "And I'm not gay either. Getting off on each other last night didn't mean any of us is gay. Last night didn't mean _anything_."

I can't believe what he is saying. Doesn't he realize that every single one of his words feels like a punch in my face? Why does he always do this? He makes me feel like we are getting somewhere, like he actually cares about me and wants me around, just before he takes it all back and leaves me looking like an idiot.

"You're humiliating me, Louis," I say without looking at him and I can hear my own voice break.

I can see his lips form a surprised 'oh' but he doesn't say anything.

"You do it all the time," I explain to him, "You do these things, and you say these things that make me so happy and hopeful. You make me feel like you actually care, that you like me even... and then you take it back again and say all those horrible things. It's so humiliating. You always make sure to keep the lines as blurry as possible," I run my palms over my face, mainly to cover my miserable expression, "I'm always completely honest with you and you just make me feel like I'm a pathetic fool for thinking that I have a chance."

His angry frown twists into a worried one. "Harry.." he begins in a whisper, but that doesn't help me much. I don't need his fake compassion. It means nothing.

"No, I don't want to hear any more of your lies," I don't let him continue, "I know you enjoyed it last night. Don't tell me you didn't. Because otherwise, I will hate myself for the rest of my life for forcing myself on you."

Louis' hand reaches up to cover his mouth as he looks at me, his face completely drained of color. "Haz, don't ever say that-"

I don't even listen to him. "But then again, I wasn't forcing myself on you, was I?" I furrow my eyebrows, "You were the one to kiss me first. You were the one to pull me on top of your lap."

Louis' features crunch up in what I assume is disgust.

"I can't do this anymore, Louis," I say, sounding hurt, "going back and forth all the time... _please_ , just tell me why you can't admit that you're into men."

"I'm not into men," Louis' eyes turn cold again, "And it's also none of your business."

"It _is_ my business," I growl angrily, "You made it my business when you first kissed me at the beach. And then when you kissed me again yesterday... And then again last night!"

"No! It isn't your business!" Louis spits, his eyes sparkling in anger, "Not everyone that ever has my tongue shoved down their throats is entitled to know about my past or my thoughts or my life. It's my life, Harry. I'm my own person with my own decisions, I don't owe you anything."

"You're an angry, pathetic jackass, that's what you are," I shout at him and punch the pillow next to me.

"Real mature, Styles," Louis raises an eyebrow at me.

"Don't lecture me about being mature if you can't even admit that you _like_ _me!"_ I snarl, "Don't tell me I'm the immature one if you can't even face your own reality! Do you want me to spell it out for you, Tomlinson?!"

I feel my chest heaving and my pulse racing through my veins. It takes all my willpower to stop myself from screaming and give him time to reply. All I can think about is, _please own up, please just finally own up, you moron._ But he only stares back at me and doesn't move an inch. There's no reaction, it's like he is frozen. There's that sinking feeling in my chest again, as disappointment hits me.

"You're a coward, Louis," I grunt with the frustration clear in my voice, "You're a fucking coward, and it's not attractive, to be quiet honest."

An emotion that I can't quite catch runs over Louis' face, and he clenches his jaw before he seems to catch on fire right in front of my eyes. He jumps to his feet.

"Great!" he explodes, "FINALLY! Finally you've found a reason to stop gawking at me with those damn heart-eyes all the time! Finally you can stop drooling every time I change in front of you," he shouts and reaches behind his head to rip off his shirt that is still covered in the stains from last night, throwing it at me to make a point, "Great news! You don't find me _attractive_ ," he screeches hysterically as he grabs a fresh shirt to pull it over his head, "Now go and wash the fucking cum out of your pants so we can forget about this pathetic embarrassment of yours, last night!"

I can feel the blood drain out of my cheeks. I don't know how to move, I just sit there in front of him, his stained shirt in my hands.

When I speak again, it sounds husky and quiet. Almost like it doesn't belong to me, like I have no control over my own voice anymore. My eyes burn. "Don't think you're ever allowed to touch me again," I croak and try to swallow down the lump in my throat.

I watch the angry crease between Louis' eyebrows grow deeper before he turns away from me to grab his shoes and leave the tent. "Cums in his own fucking sweatpants," he scoffs to himself, but I know he's making sure that I hear it, "before _anything_ has even happened. Pathetic." The last thing I see of him before he disappears through the tent door is his brown, shaggy hair flying as he shakes his head in disbelief.


	47. Chapter Forty-Seven

**Harry's POV**

Now that he's out of sight, I can't hold myself back anymore. My head falls to my knees and a strangled sob escapes my mouth. How pathetic. Just like he said. I'm pathetic.

"Styles," I hear him calling from outside, "I'm taking some of the boys out for a hunt now. I want you to make a fire and cook us something for when we get back... after you've washed your pants of course."

My fists tighten around his dirty shirt. I want to throw something at him.

Being the pathetic idiot that I am (which we just established, right), I break down crying instead. How could I have been so stupid? I really thought he cared about me. But if he cared about me, he wouldn't have said all those horrible things just to hurt me. That was his main goal. To hurt me. Well congratulations, you've done it, prick.

I curl together on my side, my hands covering my face. My cheeks are already wet and my body is shaking from the sobbing. How pathetic am I?

The most pathetic thing about this is the fact that he is the leader of the gang that kidnapped me a few weeks ago. That's what is really pathetic. Not the crying, not the hope, not the pain. He fucking kidnapped me and I still thought I could have a chance at being with him. I thought he liked me. He's done a terrible thing to me and my family. And he makes no secret of never even having considered letting me go. Even after getting to know me. Even after I've saved his life.

What's pathetic is that all of that didn't keep me from letting myself get in too deep. I allowed myself to start caring about all of these people. I actually thought they were nice and I could be friends with them. The same people who hold me captive and threatened my family and won't even let them know that I am okay... relatively.

I didn't think it would hurt that much to hear these things out of Louis mouth, to realize that he's just the same as what you always hear about gang members. They're dangerous, cruel, and selfish. They don't care a flying fuck about anyone else. And my stupid, stupid heart decided to fall for the shittiest arse of all of them... There it is. I fell for him. Completely, head-over-heals fell for him.

I snuffle my nose and blow it in the next best thing I can reach. When I pull away, I see that it is his shirt. It smells like him and it reminds me of him, so naturally I start sobbing again.

I can't believe that, now of all times, I realize that I'm in love with him. Now that he's given me every reason to know that it will never happen. I don't know how to be around him anymore. I never want to see him again.

I haven't even thought about escaping once, in these past days. Just because of him. I got distracted. All I thought about was spending time with him and figuring him out. Now that the question is off the table, I have to get back on track. I don't see one single reason for staying here anymore. I miss my family so much, I need to finally grow some balls and find a way back home.

Outside, I can hear car doors banging closed and an engine starting, before the crackling of the forest soil beneath car wheels indicates that Louis is leaving with some of the boys.

I don't ever want to see him again. I don't think I can look him in the eye anymore. I need to leave.

I don't count the minutes that I just lay there crying. I hate how sorry I feel for myself. I want to suck it up and leave and never look back and most of all, never shed a tear over him again, but I can't.

But eventually, as I shuffle myself into a sitting position, I realize that I have stopped crying. It feels good. I take a couple of very deep breaths and wipe my hands over my cheeks. I can only imagine what I must look like, right now. Probably red, puffy eyes. Most certainly a red nose. I hope I don't have snot on my face.

I run my fingers through my hair a few times before I decide to grow up and get over it. Of course, that's easier said than done, but I can try. So I get up to change out of my shirt and sweats, and into a black pair of jeans and a jumper.

I can hear the wind rush through the treetops, making leaves and twigs rustle noisily. The tent walls shake around me, too. Even the weather seems to be in a bad mood today.

I can hear voices outside, so I grab my sweatpants and the two stained shirts to have an excuse to leave the camp side. I hope they won't even notice me before I'm gone.

But I'm out of luck. As soon as I step out of the tent and realize that a hair tie might have been a good idea, I spot Evan and another boy that I have forgotten the name of, looking at me. No use learning the name now, I won't need it anymore.

Evan waves me over to where they are sitting on a log, having breakfast. "Morning Harry," he calls cheerfully, "Want some breakfast?"

I push pieces of hair out of my face, trying to win a hopeless war against the wind, and shake my head distantly. I just want to leave. I'm done with all of them.

"Really?" Evan's shoulders slouch in disappointment, "Come on, I made some extra, just for you."

Great. He's being nice. All I want to do is hate all of them and he goes ahead and prepares breakfast for me. I sigh to myself and walk over to the boys. "I'm not very hungry," I mumble but sit down next to them.

Evan hands me a plate with beans on toast which I usually love, but right now, I don't feel like eating at all. I find myself staring at the plate, expressionlessly. The heat of the plate is the only thing why I am still sitting here.

"Hey, is everything ok?" I hear Evan next to me.

I give him a forced smile and nod my head. "Yeah sure," I say and look at the plate again. The beans look glossy and delicious in the sauce. I hate that I don't feel like eating, this morning.

Evan is still looking at me. "Hey look," he says after a while, "He can be a jerk at times."

So he knows what's up. At least to some extent.

"But whatever he said or did, don't take it personally," he continues, biting into his piece of bread, "He gets cruel when he's angry."

I scoff sourly. "You think?" I say and raise my eyebrows sarcastically.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you," Evan is quick to reply, "He cares about you. A lot."

Hearing those words makes tears well up in my eyes again but I manage to keep them there. So Louis didn't just fool me, but everyone else, too. Great. I sniffle to make the wetness in my eyes go away. "Yeh, whatever," I grumble.

Evan next to me seems lost. It looks like he is honestly trying to make this better. As if he really cares about what I think of Louis. "Listen," he says almost desperately, "next time you see him, I am sure he will want to apologize to you. Just look into his eyes when he does, and you'll see if he really means it or if he just says it because he thinks he has to."

I look at Evan from the side and frown. Is he serious?

"If he is honest, they won't blink as much and they look a lot rounder than usual, like really big marble balls," he explains, "Believe me, I'm an expert on that. I've known him my entire life and he is always really honest with me. He's not as guarded with me as he is with others. And I know he isn't as guarded as usual when he is around you, too."

I smile at him weakly. He really is a sweet boy. I can't hate him even if I try. But I can't consider his request. I don't want to see Louis again, let alone stare into his eyes just to try and see something that will not be there after all.

"Yeah, thanks Evan," I say and get up without having touched my food, "I'll go wash some clothes by the river, now. Louis told me to."

"Alright, see you later, mate," Evan smiles obliviously, not knowing there won't be a later.

With that thought on my mind, I can't get myself to smile back at him before I leave for the creek where Louis and I shared our kiss yesterday. I can't believe that I actually feel sad to finally leave the past weeks behind me, but I just can't stay here anymore. Not when Louis clearly only sees me as that fool of a prisoner that he can use to act out his secret gay fantasies, before he sells him for a shitload of money like the used toy that he is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Louis' POV**

I feel like absolute shit.

There's no other way to put it. The things I've said to Harry, I know that they hit below the belt. Big time. I was horrible. I was a fucking asshole. I called him pathetic. I am pathetic.

I haven't been able to concentrate this morning while trying to teach the guys how to hunt. I tripped over roots, scaring away game. I completely zoned out when I was supposed to show the boys the right time to shoot the arrow, missing at least three different animals that we came across. And I snapped at the boys unnecessarily harshly whenever they missed a shot.

I don't know if I can make it right with Harry anymore. And that makes me feel more frustrated than anything else. I really want him to forgive me, I need him to. But the way I behaved this morning - in the past weeks actually - was absolutely savage. I wouldn't forgive myself if I was him. I would kick my ass and make sure I'll never see a sunny day in my life again.

But I have faith in Harry. He's the kindest, most amazing person I've ever met. He is understanding and loving and has a bigger heart that most of the people that I know. Maybe he'll forgive me. Maybe it can all go back to normal once I've apologized.

Besides, I know I did the right thing. We had to stop, and we just never did. We somehow always found ourselves in the same faggy situation. I had to put an end to it. It hurt me so much to say these things. Everything that Harry suggested was what I want myself. I want him. But we can't. I had to be a disgusting human being in order to make him keep his distance. I thought it was enough to try and keep the distance myself, but I obviously failed. I can't keep my distance from him. So I had to make him keep it. It hurt. But I had no other choice.

I will have to feel horrible for a while now and live with the guilt and the self-loathing, but in the end it will all make sense. We will both get over it and be happy. And save.

I, Peter, and Anton are on our way back to the camp. We shot nothing. Nothing. That's how horrible this day is. When we called training a day and hadn't shot anything, Peter suggested that I could simply shoot something so we would have something for dinner. But when I tried to shoot a squirrel, my mind kept drifting off to the things that Harry had said to me. For example that I am a coward and that he doesn't think I'm attractive. It still hurts, hearing his voice in my head. It didn't sound like an insult or a lie. He meant these things. It drove me insane this morning, made me say all these despicable, disgusting things. How he was pathetic for coming in his pants. So what, I almost came in mine too, last night. But in that moment, this morning, I said the first thing that I knew would hurt him back. I hate myself.

When we reach the camp, I make sure to push all those thoughts to the back of my mind and pretend to be my usual self. I don't want Harry to know how I really feel. I need to help him keep the distance between us. It's only fair.

"What are we having for lunch?" I call over to Evan who appears to be carving something out of a piece of wood. I slam the car door shut.

Evan looks up and shrugs his shoulders in boredom. "How would I know?" he answers.

Great. My stomach is roaring and they haven't even started making a meal?

"Didn't Harry ask you to help him?" I say and take a look around. Harry is nowhere to be seen, only the four boys are on the glade.

"Harry?" Evan frowns.

"I told him to prepare lunch," I groan when I approach him.

I can't believe that Harry seems to be playing diva and ignores my orders just because we got into a fight. Talk about being immature. Where is he by the way?

"No," Evan shakes his head, "You told him to wash some clothes."

"I told him to wash those clothes and then prepare us something to eat," I roll my eyes.

"Well, he's not back yet," Evan says with an unfazed expression. He seems a lot more dismissive with me than he usually is.

"From where?" I narrow my eyes and my breath begins to quicken up.

"From the creek," Evan explains, "He's washing the clothes, remember?"

My eyes widen in horror. "And you let him go alone?!" I burst out, making some birds flee the trees around.

Evan's lips part as he realizes his mistake. His elephant of a mistake, for crying out loud. "Was I not supposed to?" he mumbles with fearful eyes.

"Was I- OF COURSE YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO, YOU IDIOT!" I scream at him, "He's not here on a vacation! He's been looking for an opportunity to escape since he first came to us!"

"I-I'm sorry, Lou," he mutters with tears in his eyes. I've never so much as raised my voice at him. No way, I thought I would ever scream at him. He didn't think so, either as it seems. Well he can be glad I only screamed at him. WTF is wrong with him?!

I flip around and run to retrieve my backpack from the tent. It has a torch and a knife and a whole lot of stuff that I could be needing.

"I never thought you were that stupid, Evan," I cuss at the 16 year old when I come back outside, "I really didn't think your brain was that tiny. I thought better of you."

"But, Louis," Evan says and I can see that he is crying even though he is at least 50 feet away, "I thought we weren't watching him that closely anymore. He's more like a friend, now, right?"

I almost stomp my foot into the ground in frustration. "Yes! Yes, like a friend who can't stand us and who we keep against his will! That's exactly what he is, pinhead!" I can't stop screaming. I'm so furious. How can he have been so stupid?!

"You just left him alone in the tent, this morning. I thought-"

"Don't fucking point fingers, pal," I threaten, "Learn how to own up to your stupid mistakes, you coward!"

Something about my last sentence feels like a slap in my face, but I ignore it.

"I'm really sorry, Louis," Evan snivels in devastation, "I'm sure he is still by the river."

"You better hope he is," I point at him before I shoulder my bag, "You keep an eye on the boys while I'm gone. You're in charge. Make sure you don't screw up again."

Without another word, I leave the camp site. The only direction I can think of making sense is the river. Closest is he spot where we spend the day yesterday, so I'll start looking there.

Sometimes, I run, sometimes I just walk really fast, but honestly I don't know what difference it makes. If he is gone, he is gone.

I reach the river which looks so beautiful to me even though the sun isn't shining like it was, last time I saw this place. But just the memories make it special.

I feel like choking on air when I realize that Harry is nowhere around. I had hoped to see his long brown curls, and his tall lean body. I would've even been okay with angry eyebrows instead of cute dimples, but not even those are anywhere to be seen.

"Harry?!" I call in panic. But I know that even if he heard, he wouldn't answer. He hates me. I hate myself.

When I spot something red by the shore, I run towards it in hope of a clue or anything. But what I find are the dark-blue sweatpants of Harry and both of our shirts. His white and with a band printed across the chest, and mine red.

I pick it up mindlessly and look around once more. He just left them here.

When my eyes fall onto the shirt, I can feel my body freeze in horror.

There is a hole ripped into the shirt. I don't know whether it was intentional or not, but it is located in the very center of the chest, right over the heart.

My hands begin to sweat and at first, I don't even know why this shocks me so much. Until it hits me and I fall to my knees. I've broken his heart. I hurt him. I broke his heart and now I've lost him. He's gone and I've lost him.


	48. Chapter Forty-Eight

**Louis' POV**

This can't be real. I must've missed something here. He can't be gone. He can't be. He is probably hiding somewhere, laughing about my reaction to these clearly staged clothing items. This is payback for me yelling at him, this morning. Nothing more. He can't be gone.

I feel the fabric of my ripped shirt in my hands, still kneeling on the ground. It is definitely real. This isn't a dream.

I can't think straight anymore. Everything feels jumbled and confused in my head.

How can he be gone? He cares for me, right? He wouldn't leave me without a word. He told me that he wants to be with me, for crying out loud... well indirectly... but still, _this_ doesn't look like the action of someone who wants to be with someone. He can't be gone. He can't do that to me.

I turn my head around in all directions and try to spot any sight of him. I even look up and down the small river to make sure he isn't in the water. But he is nowhere to be seen.

I drop my face into my open palms when I feel my tears threatening to spill. Why did he leave me? How could he do that to me? Doesn't he know that I need him around? That I am better with him? Of course he knows.

He abandoned me. He straight up abandoned me, leaving without looking back. He doesn't even care about how I feel. He doesn't even care that he makes me a better person, and most importantly, a happier person. He doesn't care about anything. I am so disappointed in him, right now.

How selfish can he be? He knows that I need him. How can he expect me to change into the person that he needs me to be - the person I want to be - if he's not there to make me that person? He should've just been a little more patient with me. I would've gotten there. I would've been brave eventually... I think.

My shoulders sink. I am being unfair, I know that. I am the selfish one. I would like to think that I would've been brave at some point, but I know better. I never intended to go for Harry, because I was trying to protect us. He would've waited for me in vain. I know it just as well as he obviously knew it. He knew I'd never stop being a dick, and that's why he left. I am so weak, I didn't manage to stay away from him myself. And so I decided to be a total jerk and hurt him countless times.

To be fair, I didn't even know he was into me, at first. I never believed someone as kind and amazing as him could ever like someone like me. And now he will never like me again because I totally screwed it up. I'm a horrible person.

He was right to run away. Even if it wasn't for his freedom and his family, he should've ran away from me long ago. I do nothing but hurt him. I don't deserve him.

I can't believe that I ever refused him, ever pulled away or pushed him away. I hated it. I never wanted to push him away. I always wanted _him_. Even before we had kidnapped him. Even all those months that we just watched him and broke into his house. I was always attracted to him, and very quickly I got drawn to him because of the dork that he is. Yes, I always wanted him. And still, I kept pushing him away. I should've just been brave. If I'd have been brave and strong and kind to him from the start, I would've deserved him.

I take Harry's clothes into my arms and hug them against my chest. They still smell like him... I miss him. He makes me so happy. He is so special and he has no idea. He's the best thing that has ever happened to me. He is everything. And he is worth fighting for.

I open my eyes in realization. _I need to fight for him._ I never fought for him, never gave him what he deserves. No wonder, I am sitting here, heartbroken and miserably lacking him. I never deserved him, because I was never ready to fight for him. I never appreciated how special he is. I need to start fighting for him now.

I need to find him, I need to tell him what he means to me and want an incredible person he is because nothing else matters. The only thing that matters is that I can't lose him because I am in love with him. And I have been for way longer than I dared to admit to myself. He has to know.

I get up and toss the pieces of clothing to the ground. I have no idea where to go, he could've literally gone in any direction from here. Without thinking twice, I start running along the river and keep the water to my right. It doesn't matter where I go. I just need to find him, and he could be everywhere. So just going left is as good as any direction.

I can't believe that it has taken me so long to realize that I am harming us more than I am protecting us. I was so blinded by fear that I didn't see that he is worth the risk. He is worth everything. He is worth the struggle and misery that we might have to go through if somebody finds out. I don't think that I am worth all of that, but I want Harry to make that decision. I know that I have made mine.

When my legs start to hurt and I can feel the sweat on my forehead, I realize that I've been running for a while now, without any sign of Harry. I slow down somewhat and open the side pocket of my backpack to retrieve a small compass. I've been heading west which is also the direction of our city. I just hope Harry has a really good sense of direction and went this way too, but who knows. He could be anywhere. Even if he did head in the same direction as I, he would probably be long gone by now. He’s had a head start of hours.

There is absolutely no sign of his brunette curls anywhere. There is no hinting that he has ever crossed this path, no breadcrumbs, no lost shoe of glass. How am I supposed to be the hero that I need to be to deserve him when I have nothing and nobody to help me? Why is it so hard in real life and so easy in fairy tales? The prince and the princess fall in love the very instant they lay eyes on each other and after that there is no denying it. There will be an obstacle before they can live happily ever after, but there is always someone who can help, or someone who roots for them, or something as tiny as a shoe made of glass that helps the prince find his princess.

It's obvious, isn't it? It's easy because it isn't real.

In real life, in our very own fairy tale, the stupid, chicken-hearted prince has to rely on only himself to find his beautiful, strong, kind-hearted prince.

I can't give up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've been walking for ages, never resting. The sun has set hours ago and I'm using my flashlight to help me see the ground. I am tired. Everything hurts. I can't believe I haven't found him yet. He probably went in the exact opposite direction and now there are at least 20 miles between us.

It is so cold and it has been raining all evening. Harry has left everything by the camp, he doesn't have a flashlight or food or water or anything to keep him warm. I just hope he is save.

I was so stupid. All the time. Every day since I met him. I could've prevented this. I made all the wrong decisions. And how he is gone and he doesn't know what he means to me.

This thing that I am doing now - running after him, trying to find him - is the first good decision that I've made since I've known him. This is the first time, I am brave.

Because this time, I am not trying to find him because he is an escaped prisoner, and I am not trying to capture him again. This time I am trying to find him, because he needs to know that I love him and because I can't lose him like this.

And I am scared for him. I imagine him wandering through the woods with no idea where he is and with blue lips and a hungry belly. He might be scared of wild animals. He isn't used to the woods like I am. I wish I would've found him already.

Suddenly, a twig that I didn't see, snaps back and hits me in the open eye.

"Argh, shit!" I curse as my hand flies to my eye. It hurts like hell. I stop and shine through the darkness with my flashlight to find the twig that attacked me. "You little fucker," I grunt when I see it and rip it off the tree in anger.

My eye starts tearing up intensely and I can't seem to open it without pain.

This is just what I needed now. I hate this. This is all just useless. I will never find him, especially not with only one capable eye. I'm hungry and tired and he might be miles away. I don't know what to do.

I have to accept that I have lost him. I've lost him and it is all my fault. There's no denying it anymore. I'm a failure and a fuck-up and I don't deserve to find him anyway.

When the thought crosses my mind, my other eye starts tearing up too. I sniffle noisily and wipe my nose on my sleeve. He's gone. He won't come back. I won't find him. There's no positive way of looking at it. This is all pointless. I'll have to face the truth and go back to the camp. It won’t just be heartbreaking to return without him, but also embarrassing. What will the others think? They will be so disappointed. But in the end, I deserve it.

But the worst thing is the pain in my chest. A sob escapes my mouth and I ruffle through my hair in despair. I had it coming. With all the pain that I have caused him, it only makes sense that I am the one to cry, now. My change of heart came too late. It doesn't matter that I want to be brave now, because he can't see it anymore.

I shake my head and wipe over my eyes. I need to go back. I take a look at my compass and make sure I am heading east.

This is not giving up, I tell myself. It might look like giving up on him, but it isn't. Just because I stop looking for him tonight, doesn't mean that I'll stop fighting. I will show him that I am strong enough now to treat him right. This is not the end for us.

I will go home to the cave, tomorrow, and immediately start looking for him. If he finds the way home on his own, I will knock on his parents' door and beg him to forgive me. I will do everything it takes to make this right.

I don't know how long I've been going back into the direction of the camp, but it was definitely long enough to come up with five different speeches for when I see Harry again. It was long enough for me to be so hungry that I decided to chew on leaves while walking. And it was long enough for my flashlight batteries to die, leaving me merely with the light of the moon peeking through the thin clouds.

I'm so tired. I should just rest and walk the last bit of the way in the morning, but I feel like I must already be really close, maybe another couple of miles or so.

My tears have dried by now, and honestly, I don't feel like crying anymore. I almost feel numb, if there wasn't that grain of hope and the determination that I am feeling.

But at the moment, the fatigue tops everything. My eyes are drooping and all I can do is stagger through the trees at this point. The only time, I feel my mind sharpen somewhat is when the clouds suddenly clear out completely and give the moon a chance to shine in her full brightness.

I raise my eyes and look around. This seems familiar. These are the same trees that surround the camp site. I must be very close. Another spark of hope ignites inside me. This time it is the hope of food and a bed.

I walk faster and look around as much as I can to make sure I don't miss anything that tells me where exactly I am.

Suddenly, my foot catches somewhere and I fall to the ground. I immediately know that it is a human body part and my mind jumps to the dead Grey Skin in horror. But it can't be the corps because the person next to me startles and shuffles away. When I turn my head, my heart jumps to my throat, making my voice sound an octave higher than usual, "Harry!"


	49. Chapter Forty-Nine

**Harry’s POV**

"Harry, it's you," he squeaks with big, horrified eyes. It doesn't seem like he expected to find me here.

Then again, I didn't expect him to find me, either. When I first woke up because of his foot driving against my calf and I saw his face, I thought I was still dreaming. I can feel my heart thudding inside my chest and my hands have begun to shake. I don't want him here. I was trying to escape from him!

"I was so worried, Hazza," he says, his voice sounding breathy.

When he starts crawling closer, a strangled sound escapes my mouth and I shuffle further back against the tree that had served as my bed in the past hours. "Get away from me," I hear my voice, but it sounds different. It sounds like I am close to crying.

I'm about to get up and start running away when Louis predicts my plan and lunges forward. "No!" he yells desperately and before I can help it, he straddles my lap, placing his full weight on me and closes his hands around my wrists to hold me in place. Even though he is every strong, I know that I could simply hoist him off of my lap since he is so short. That's probably why his grip around my wrists is so damn tight.

"Get off me," I groan in frustration and try to shift away.

But Louis ignores me. "I'm _so_ _so_ sorry, Haz," he says in a high pitched tone, "you have no idea how sorry I am."

"Don't call me that," I snap at him, angrily furrowing my eyebrows almost so much that they hurt.

Louis' eyes widen in alarm. "Harry," he quickly corrects himself. It doesn't make my name sound better from his lips. "I mean it," he assures me, "You have to believe me! I am so sorry for everything that I've done."

I raise my eyebrow at him. Why doesn't his choice of words surprise me? "Everything?" I scoff, "That's great." Of course he finds me and comes up with this lazy excuse without real meaning. And thanks to the wording of his so called apology, I can already see him telling me how sorry he is to have ever made me feel like he cared. "And what would 'everything' be, exactly," I challenge him.

"Everything!" Louis shouts in a panicked voice. I think he notices how unimpressed I am by his words. "I've hurt you so bad, I know it," he tells me and his features look almost sad in the darkness, "I was unfair and scared and cruel, and you deserve so much better. I never wanted to hurt you."

I roll my eyes in annoyance. Could he be any more pretentious? "'kay," I deadpan.

Louis gives my arms a shake to make me look at him. When I do, I notice that one of his eyes is darker than the other. It almost looks alien in the darkness. "Please come back to the camp with me," he pleads.

I burst out a loud, dark laugh that doesn't sound cheerful at all in the quiet of the night. "And why should I?" I chuckle sharply.

"Because I am asking you to," Louis whines. His voice keeps sounding like he is wounded. Can he stop that? It's annoying. "And because it's cold and you must be starving like I am. And because trying to find your way back home, on your own, while you're like 50 miles away from the city, it’s nuts."

"Yeah," I grunt, "I really must've been nuts to think I could escape you, huh?"

"Harry, I didn't mean it like that," he says quickly, realizing his mistake, "I'm worried about you. I just want you to be save."

"Worried?" I blurt in disbelieve, "Worried?! That's what this is, yeah? Well, sorry, I couldn't tell. I didn't get the decryption key for your fishy techniques of showing affection."

Louis' shoulders slump at my words. "Harry, _please_ , you have to believe me. I'm asking you. I could be forcing you to come back with me, but I am asking," he tells me.

"Oh how noble of you," I laugh. I refuse to let him get to me so easily. What is he thinking? That he can say sorry and I crawl back like every time before? "I feel so much better, now that you are threatening to force me back. You really give me the feeling like I have a choice," I can hear my voice dripping with sarcasm.

The first time since he got here, I can see anger on Louis' face. "Don't keep twisting my words like that!" he snaps but it makes his anger seem more like desperation than anything else. His features soften again, before he continues. "I'm not going to force you," he says in a much calmer voice, "You're not a captive, Harry. I won't hold you against your will anymore."

His eyes look so sincere while I can feel my hands going numb from the firm grip that he has on my wrists, it's almost hilarious. I pointedly raise an eyebrow at him and look down our bodies. When Louis follows my eyes and realizes that he is literally holding me against my will, he winces so hard that my back bashes into the tree behind me. He releases the grip around my wrists and scrambles backwards until a couple of feet are separating us. I instantly feel a tingle in both of my hands as the blood is able to circulate, again. I watch his face as I massage my hands in relief. His lips are parted in surprise and his eyes look at me regretfully. He looks like he is actually shocked that he had pinned me against the tree without thinking about it.

"What happened to your eye?" I ask him, mainly to break the silence.

Louis seems confused, like the look of his body parts is the last thing that's on his mind, at the moment. When he lifts his hand to cover the dark one, he seems to remember. "I ran into a twig," he says gloomily as if he couldn't care less. I want to smile at the image of him getting hit by a tiny twig, but I can't.

Louis’ eyes scan the area and eventually find mine again. "We're almost at the camp site. It can't be more than 2 or 3 miles from here. You didn't get very far," he tells me.

That can't be. I've been walking the entire day. I thought that if I went in the right direction, I must've gotten at least half way back to the city. Even though I did get lost at some point.

"We have fire there," Louis tells me even though I obviously know about that, "and blankets and hopefully some food if those idiots left us some... please just come back with me."

I frown again when I hear his suggestion. Doesn't he understand that that's not an option anymore? He really doesn't take me seriously. "How can you think, I'd rather go with you than stay here and be cold and hungry?" I hiss angrily. I suddenly feel like crying. What is he doing to me? It hurts so much to see him again after these awful things that he said to me. I had hoped I would never have to face him again. And now he is here and pretends to be nice and actually looks like he is worried and regretful. I can't handle this anymore. "I'd much rather starve to death, right here, than spend another minute in your presence," I say in a thick voice and swallow quickly. I know that this was a lie but I have to try and hide that from him. I wish I was actually strong enough to mean my words.

Louis drops his gaze to the ground. He looks hurt. "I've prepared about five different speeches tonight for when I see you again..." he says quietly and shakes his head in devastation, "They all don't cut it. They aren't even close to what I am feeling and how sorry I am. They're not even close to what you deserve," he looks at me helplessly, "And besides, they are just speeches. Just words. I know that words won't make you forgive me. I screwed up too much."

"Maybe you should've thought about that before you completely humiliated me," I croak and realize how close I am to tears, "Do you think I can ever believe anything you say, again? You may sound like you're sorry, now, but you'll probably take it back again, any second now."

"Look, I know I should've treated you right, from the very beginning," Louis says, and rubs his palms over his forehead and down his cheeks, "But instead, I kept lying because I was scared. I was lying, Harry. You know that. You told me yourself that you knew I was lying," he looks at me expectantly but I don't react. "I should've been honest with you. I should've told you that I like your company and that I get giddy whenever you smile at me, and how I can't stop thinking about you, and how much I love kissing you."

My breath hitches involuntarily, but he doesn't seem to notice it.

"Hell, I shouldn't even have kidnapped you in the first place," he continues desperately, "The moment I realized that you mean more to me than some rich dude that we're planning to kidnap, I should've called it quits. I should've stopped targeting you, and instead started _courting_ you, the very moment I realized that I liked you."

When he stops speaking to look at me, I notice that my mouth has fallen open in shock, so I close it quickly. Did I just hear him right? No, he can't be for real. I am sure he didn't mean it the way it sounded. I feel like I can't even properly process his words.

"And especially when I got to know you and started to realize what you honestly mean to me, I should've just stopped making you suffer," he continues when he senses that I can't quite follow, "I pulled you away from your family even though I know exactly what it feels like to have lost the people that you love. And all of that only because I was so scared of the consequences. I didn't see that I was hurting you more than protecting you."

When I finally find my voice again, I am surprised how spiteful it sounds. "Protecting me, yeah," I snort.

Louis shifts onto his knees and looks at me with upset eyes. "I really am sorry, Harry," he almost whispers, "you have to believe me. I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I have to try and convince you of the truth. Because up until now, the only thing I ever did was to convince you of the lie."

His words really stir something inside my chest. I am not sympathizing with him now, am I? "You know, I thought that I knew you were lying to yourself but in the end, how do I know that you didn't do all of this... all of this back and forth... just to make my time as a captive even more horrible?" I say and really mean every word. I wish he would give me the answer because I really need to know, but of course he doesn't know it, either. "How do I know whether you actually liked me or didn't give a shit at all?" I go on asking, "How do I know whether you kept taking back the nice things because you were lying or just because you never cared about me and wanted to hurt me? How do I even know the difference between the truth and the lie, anymore?"

"I am telling you, that _this_ is the truth," Louis says urgently.

"But why now? Why should you be telling me the truth _now?_ " I raise my voice impatiently.

"Because I didn't know how much I was hurting you, until earlier today!" Louis says loudly, "Because I didn't realize how much I need you, until I lost you today. And because I honestly thought I was protecting the both of us. I thought I was doing the right thing by lying about my feelings. You have no idea what I went through, and yet you have seen how they treat people like us!"

Even though his shouting stings somewhat, I try not to let him see it and scoff. "Yes, I have absolutely no idea what you went through," I hiss, "and do you know why? Because you _never_ tell me the truth. You always slip away as soon as we get closer to the real you. You never let me in. I know nothing about you."

"You know more about me than anyone else!" Louis spits, his dark eyes sparkling in anger, "You're the only person I have ever told about my sister, and I told you a lot more about my father than I told anyone, ever before."

When he is done yelling, I can see his chest heaving in the darkness, but I only laugh bitterly. "If that's the truth, I feel really sorry for you. If I am the person that knows you best, nobody has ever seen the real you," I tell him.

" _You_ have," he says urgently as I watch the crease on his forehead smoothing out again, "Whenever I was brave enough to show it to you. You were right this morning. I am a coward. But still, you made it so easy for me to show you who I really am."

"Well, as far as I am concerned, I don't know you at all," I murmur in sorrow, "You always lie. You never give me straight answers. How am I supposed to believe anything you say?"

For a second, Louis looks at me with a puzzled expression. But then suddenly, he sits up, straightens his back and looks into my eyes with determination. "I'll tell you everything," he says, his voice sounding hopeful, "You can ask me any question you want, and I'll tell you the full truth in every detail."

Even though I know that I need to be careful, I feel a bubble of excitement growing inside my chest. The only thing I can do is to hide it in front of Louis. I furrow my eyebrows slowly. "What? Now?" I huff, "Here in the forest where I am probably going to fall asleep as soon as you start telling me about your fantasy stories?"

Louis shrugs his shoulders. He doesn't seem offended by my snide remark. "Let's go back to the camp, then," he says and it actually sounds like a suggestion, not an order, "Let's go back and sleep and eat, and we'll talk in the morning. I promise you, I won't lie."

"Why?" I say in a wary tone, "What has suddenly changed your opinion?"

"You," he says simply, "I realized today that I need you more than anything else, and that I was blind to what really is important. I know that I can trust you. You have no idea how important you are to me. I always knew. But I never allowed myself to act on it because I was stupid and scared of other opinions. But I don't want to be like that anymore," he looks at me and smiles, "You made me realize what is important. And I _need_ to make you see that I mean it."

"Mean what, Louis?" I spit. His smile bothers me more than it should. "That you mean it when you say how pathetic I am? That you mean it when you say that everything I thought was real, actually meant nothing?!"

Louis lunges forward again, but this time he only touches his hands to each of my shins to make me stop screaming. "That I mean it when I say that I love you," he says in a calm but steady voice.

I close my mouth and feel the blood drain from my cheeks. When I open it again, no sound comes out. I feel like I am in shock. All I can do is to search his big eyes for anything that tells me that he is mocking me, right now. But I don't see anything like it. He seems so collected and sure about it. I don't know what to think. This is not what I expected to hear from him. This is not what I was prepared for when I left him, this morning.

"I do," he says, seeming to read my confusion from the expression on my face, "I love you. And I won't take it back. Not this time," his voice sounds so confident when he moves his hands over my shins to my feet and eventually detaches them from my legs, "I've learnt my lesson. I was so stupid before. I never told you how I feel about you. I never told you what an amazing person you are and that you make me happy just by being around me," he says, looking straight into my eyes. I am still looking for the mocking grin to form on his lips, any time, to tell me that he is shitting me, but it doesn't come. He doesn't even seem nervous about what he is saying. It doesn't seem like he is unsure about it or will take it back, in a minute. "But now I know better," he continues, "and that's why I came after you. To tell you what I should've told you from the start."

He looks so honest. I can feel my heart aching with the desire to believe him. But this just sounds too good to be true. For what feels like the thousands time today, I feel tears filling my eyes so I drop my gaze, turning my head away from him.

In the corner of my eyes, I can see Louis scooting closer until he is sitting right next to me. Suddenly, I feel two gentle fingers, touching my jaw and guiding my head in his direction. After that, he patiently waits for me to look at him again, without saying a word. When I finally find the courage to do so, I am taken aback by the softness in his eyes. That’s what Evan meant when he talked to me about Louis, this morning.

"That is the _only_ reason why I came after you," he says as if he had waited to say it ever since he sat down next to me.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. Is he saying that he didn't come after me because I am his captive? He can't be serious, can he? Is he trying to tell me that he only came after me to tell me that he loves me? He makes me doubt everything again. This morning, I was so sure that he was a heartless, cruel prick who never cared about anyone. But now...

My eyes begin to burn fiercely, but I don't want to cry. I am just so confused and I don't want to get hurt again. And still, I want to believe him and he looks so sincere. Can he be genuinely telling the truth?

"Well," Louis stretches the word and looks to the treetops as if he was thinking really hard, "and also because I was worried that you'd get lost which," he stops and chuckles quietly, looking at me with fond eyes, "knowing you, was a given, right?" He chuckles again, making the most endearing sounds while doing so.

I am so utterly dumbfounded by this new Louis, I can only stare at him. His warm smile makes me feel so protected and happy, even though I still can't tell how save it is to trust him one more time. But without my permission, I find myself chuckling too. "I am hopeless with my feet," I joke gingerly. It feels so weird to be smiling again, but it tingles everywhere and almost warms me up a little.

Louis just keeps on looking into my eyes with a smile without saying a word. No sarcastic remark or last word. I can see how hard he is trying to behave and do the right thing. I have never seen him like this. I have known that this side of him was hidden inside him, since the day I first saw him. He was pretending to be all bossy and tough, but whenever I showed as much as the slightest sign of distress or insecurity, he looked at me in worry and stopped with the act.

"You promise that these are the only two reasons why you came after me?" I ask him and scan his features to know exactly whether he is telling the truth or not.

Louis' lips turn into an even bigger smile as he gives his head a nod. "Didn't you listen to me?" he says with a chuckle, "I'm not here to captivate you again. I'm not forcing you to come with me. I am _asking_ you to come back because it is safer and more comfortable to sleep in the camp. And when we get back to the cave tomorrow, I'll inform the others about my decision and bring you back home to you parents."

My jaw literally drops. I can feel my pulse starting to race, just at the thought of actually going home. I don't know what to think. Didn't he always say how letting me go was not an option? Didn't everyone agree on keeping me until the police had moved on or, I don't know, until I die?

Louis seems to notice my inner battle and smiles at me encouragingly. "You're free to go, Hazza," he whispers, but I can see the corner of his lips twitch a tiny bit when he says it. There is sorrow in his eyes. He doesn't like it, but he has still decided to let me go.

"But-b-but what about the money?" I splutter, "What about the gang, the children?"

Louis shakes his head with a brave smile and puts his hands over my shaking ones. "We'll figure something out," he assures me, "I'll figure something out all by myself if the others aren't on board with it. I don't care. But I won't use you like that anymore. Your happiness is so much more important."

I can painfully feel my heart racing in excitement in my chest. I can go home.

"I-I don’t know what to-"

"I love you, Harry," he repeats with a smile, stopping me from rambling immediately.

I release a puff of air from my chest which calms me down drastically. Then, I look into Louis' eyes which are filled with so much honesty. How can I not believe him? I extend my arms, pull him onto my lap and into my arms. He hugs me back with no hesitation. His arms wrap around my shoulders and press me against his chest as if he hadn't seen me in years. He doesn't try to kiss me or expect me to say it back, though, and I am glad about it.

Suddenly, I can feel that empty feeling in my stomach, as if there was a hole gnawed into my tummy, just before it grumbles noisily into the silence between us.

Louis pulls away from me slowly, to look at me, but his hands stay attached behind my back. "You _are_ as hungry as I am," he chuckles and his fingers start playing with the curls at the back of my neck.

"I don't care," I whisper with hooded eyes. Right now, all I can care about is the feeling in my chest, not my stomach. But I don't tell him that.

Louis cocks his head to the side and looks at me in confusion. But he doesn't push me to explain when he sees that I don't react. "Now," he says instead, and for the first time in a while, his eyes look timid again when he poses his question, "would you come back to the camp with me, please? It is damned cold and I can't stand that empty feeling in my stomach anymore."

I don't move for a moment and consider the question. But the answer is obvious to me. I never intended to go back, again, but I hadn't seen Louis fight for me, before I left. And he said I could go home, even though I am still not entirely sure if I’m misunderstanding that part. But no matter what, I had known the answer, the moment he asked the question.

I smile at him, being completely infatuated with his eyes that shine in the moonlight. "You're awfully late, you know that?" I murmur at him instead of an answer, while my palms start rubbing over Louis' back slowly.

"I know," Louis says quietly and looks at me with sad eyes, "Am I _too_ late, though?"

I can't help but smile, brightly and fully. "No," I shake my head, "I thought you were, but you ran very fast to catch up with me. And then you came crashing into me, in the end."

I can hear Louis chuckle at the back of his throat. "Quite literally," he agrees and takes my hands into his, before he gets up and pulls me with him. He lets go of me immediately and starts rummaging in his backpack until he finds a small object that almost looks like a pocket watch.

"That is our direction," he declares after a minute that I use to solely stare at him. So the pocket watch is actually a compass, I figure.

We start walking into the direction that he pointed at, and somehow all the intimacy from just moments ago seems to have vanished. There are at least three feet space between us and I have to concentrate on my own feet way too hard to give Louis much attention.

As we walk, my mind starts drifting off to everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. I never would've thought, I'd freely go back to the camp with Louis. But then again, I would've also never thought that Louis would even let me decide. I can't believe that he is letting me go. He is actually letting me go back to my parents and my sister. My heart jumps when I think about seeing them again. I can't really process it yet, but despite everything that had happened before, I can't help but believe Louis. My feelings are so jumbled and shaken. I don't even know which emotion to process first.

Before I can figure out my thoughts and feelings, Louis actually finds the camp and jumps up and down in excitement like a child. When I look around the three tents and the old Jeep and the fire place, I am surprise to realize that I actually feel like coming home. Louis finds us some plain bread and we devour it dry. It almost hurts to finally have something inside my stomach again. I remember that the last time I had something to eat was almost 30 hours ago.

When we both get into our tent, we fall into our bed immediately. Both fully clothed and equally exhausted. Without another word and almost naturally, Louis turns to his side and pulls me into his chest, spooning me from behind. I smile to myself and cuddle my back against his body.

But even though I feel so exhausted, I can't seem to fall asleep. My emotions are still running wild. After all that has happened today, I finally start quietly crying into my hands. It's not the same kind of crying that I did all day, before. This is the relieving kind of crying, the one that alleviates all the stress and unease in your body.

Even though I try to hide it, Louis realizes my state in no time. "You alright, Hazza?" he whispers in a worried tone, "Is this okay with you?" He’s clearly referring to his proximity.

An audible sob escapes me at his words and I nod. "Just don't let me go," I sniffle, and curl together even more.

Louis follows my movement and curls his small body around mine. "Promise," he whispers, before I can feel his lips pressing a soft kiss against my shoulder.


	50. Chapter Fifty

**Harry's POV**

The first thing that I feel when I wake up is anxiety. How many times have I woken up just like this, in the recent past? How many times has this exact situation turned out to be absolutely horrible? While I lay there with my eyes closed, I recall all those times that have started out just like this morning; waking up in Louis' arms after some great revelation on Louis' part, the night before, and then watching him remember what had happened and come back to reality. Reality in this case has always meant heartbreak on my part.

So naturally, I am already waiting for history to repeat itself. What do Louis' promises and confessions mean if he'll take them back as soon as he wakes up? Simple answer: Nothing. I am so scared to find out that I have fallen for his lies, once again. I don't even know what I would do. He would probably do everything to prevent me from escaping again.

When I realize that my pulse has increased because of the anxiety, I notice movement from the man beside me. For some reason, my head is lying on his chest even though we didn't fall asleep like that, last night. The arm that is looping around my shoulders pulls me closer to Louis' chest and I let it happen. Partly because I like the feeling and partly because I don't want him to know, yet, that I am also awake. The effort doesn't last long, though, because I shiver and unconsciously give out a sigh when I suddenly feel warm fingertips grazing along my upper arm.

I open my eyes and shift slightly to look up to Louis who is already smiling at me with crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He leans down a bit and places a soft kiss on my forehead. I still don't trust the whole situation though, because I did already wake up to a sweet, soft Louis before. And he still managed to go vicious on me as soon as I addressed the topic.

"Morning darling," Louis hums in a deeper voice than usual, obviously still laced with sleep.

I look at him with reproachful eyes. "Hey..." is all I manage to reply.

"You won't believe what a lucky guy I am," he smiles at me without noticing my caution.

"Why's that?" I go along with his game. He is obviously about to say something sarcastic.

"Well, you know, I had a nightmare about being the biggest jerk in history and I made someone that is very important to me run away and hate me," he tells me and his smile fades, "I thought I'd never get the chance to set things right with him. But then I woke up and he was right there with me, save and sound..."

I try to force a smile but I'm not sure if it doesn't look more like I'm gassy.

Louis' features go soft when he notices my discomfort. "Harry," he almost whispers my name, "You know that I'll treat you right from now on, don't you? I'll make it up to you. No more jerk behavior, anymore. No more lies."

I look into his eyes, trying to alternate between them and figure out if they're lying or not. But I'm not sure. I can't see anything but sincerity and affection but I am still scared that I might be wrong. "Okay..." I mumble because I can't think of anything else.

Louis' forehead wrinkles into a frown and he cups my cheek carefully. "Why are you so quiet?" he wonders, "Darling, I really meant everything I said, last night. I am sorry that I made you doubt my words again and again. But that's over now, love," a smile pops onto his lips at his own words, "I'm standing by my words. Every single one of them."

Every single one of them? He's not taking anything back? Even though he said some pretty clear things? I slowly feel myself warming up to the idea that this time might really be different from all those other mornings. And I did believe him, last night. At least at the very end of the night. I believed him when he told me that he would let me go home and also that he loves me. He loves me.

A smile forms on my lips. When Louis sees it, his eyes become even smaller from smiling and he playfully nudges my nose with his own. I reach up to his head and bury my fingers in his hair at the back of his neck while my eyes fond over every single feature of his face. This is actually real, isn't it? This beautiful, beautiful man loves me. I feel Louis' other arm looping around my torso now, too. His fingers don't take long until they find the stripe of bare skin on my lower back and begin to draw random patterns onto it, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

After minutes of fondling each other’s bodies, Louis pulls his head back an inch to look into my eyes properly. "Hey, when I found you, yesterday, you were less than 2 miles away from here," he says, clearly as a result of his own train of thoughts, "You were gone for over 12 hours. Why did you stay so close to the camp?"

I look away from his eyes, feeling rather embarrassed about that topic. "I didn't know," I mutter with a bashful little smile, "I've been walking for hours, yesterday, and I thought I was just as many hours away from the camp. Apparently I wasn't," I look at him sheepishly, "The only way I can explain it to myself is that there was that one time, after walking for at least 5 hours, I came across the river again. The one that goes right past here. The one we bathed in. And I got confused. I thought I had been walking away from it all that time and then there it was again. So I turned around and I didn't know where to go, so in the end I kinda got lost and just roamed through the trees. I still thought I was heading away from the camp but... Apparently not." A chuckle escapes my throat. This really is too awkward.

Louis chuckles, too, but his eyes are kind. "Ever heard about rivers taking turns? Or the fact that there can actually be more than one river in a forest?" he says sarcastically.

My lips form a pout when I hear his tone. "Hey, don't make fun," I grumble, "I was confused and upset. I'm allowed disorientation."

Louis' amused face turns into a conscience-stricken one in seconds. "I know. I'm sorry, Haz," he mumbles.

Even though my first instinct is to reassure him that everything is fine now, I can't ignore the fact that I am clearly at an advantage here. I smirk at him confidently. "You know how to make it up to me, don't you?" I say.

I can see how Louis is trying to hide it, but his eyes betray him. He's lost. "Anything, dear," he says quickly, seeming utterly cornered, "I'll do anything."

He doesn't know what I am talking about. Even though it does feel great to see him struggling a little, the question I am about to ask makes me somewhat nervous myself. "Well, you said that you meant every single word you said, last night, right?" I say hesitantly.

"A hundred percent," he assures me.

"So... You kinda promised me some answers, remember?" I begin gingerly, "Can I- could I ask you some questions, now?"

Louis stops only for a second before he looks like he is glad that he is finally on top of the conversation again. "Of course. Shoot," he smiles.

"Okay," I say and suddenly feel excitement beginning to bubble in my chest, so I detach myself from Louis and sit up cross-legged, "So... I'll just simply go for it. No beating around the bushes. Straight-out ask it," I ramble in anticipation.

Louis chuckles and sits up, too. "Go for it," he encourages me.

I look him in the eyes and seem to lose my fire immediately. "So, basically," I begin, "you know, the question that I want to know most is..." my voice loses itself. I don't know why this is so hard to ask. I guess, I don't want to be intrusive. "Why did you try to hide it for so long?" I say quietly and can't help but look to my hands, "I mean, why did you still deny it, after I told you how I have a hunch that you like me?" I feel absolutely pushy to be asking that question but I finally look into his eyes again.

Thankfully, and somewhat surprisingly, Louis looks amused. "Just a hunch, huh?" he jokes with a smile, "To answer your question, as I said yesterday, I wanted to protect us from those horrible things that could very well happen."

I smile patiently and take one of his hands into both of mine. "I know," I say and watch his blue eyes closely, "but _why_? I mean yes, everybody knows what's at stake if someone finds out that you're anything else than heterosexual. So it makes sense for somebody who is gay to keep it to themselves. But you are somehow even more so... Like, of course I haven't met anyone else who is gay but-"

"Oh you've met some," Louis corrects me but he looks shy, "They just never told you."

I nod my head in agreement. "I know. But what I mean is that I've never openly spoken to someone who is gay about actually being gay," I explain and have to smile at how awkward we are making things, "So I don't know what they would say or think but... well, I for one am not as guarded about my sexuality as you are and even Niall talked about it with me."

"You talked about it with Niall?!" Louis blurts with horrified eyes.

"Not about _me_ being gay, of course," I say quickly and caress his hand reassuringly, "About being gay in general. Well, actually we talked about morals in general, I guess. But it did come up because," when I realize what the reason for the topic was, my eyes snap back to his, before I continue with a bit of a nervous heartbeat, "because that was right around the time when I was starting to question, you know... wonder if I might be gay. Because of the things that I felt when I was around you."

He smiles at me quietly and places his other hand over our little pile of hands.

"I also talked to Niall about how you are so damn guarded all the time," I say and narrow my eyes at him playfully, "You know, he told me that he thinks it started when you were a teenager. He said one day, you came home after a night out, covered in bruises and cuts. And you didn't want to talk about it at all. What happened, Lou? Do you remember that time?"

Louis looks at our hands for a moment, before he pulls away. He seems quite pale when he answers. "There... was that thing when I was 15..." he hesitates, looking so small, "Wasn't pretty. Made me see exactly in what a rotten place we are living."

"A thing?" I furrow my eyebrows, "What thing?"

"I... got caught," Louis says slowly. And to my surprise, he suddenly blushes.

"Caught at what?"

"At uh, blowing..." he says with pink, adorable cheeks, barely looking into my eyes, "like uh, sucking someone... off," he coughs uncomfortably, "You know..."

I would be baffled about his shyness if I wasn't so intrigued by the picture he just painted me. I bite my lower lip when I look at his mouth and imagine it around someone's prick. It kind of makes me jealous but it mainly just makes all my blood shoot into my crotch. "Oh," I say and it comes out as a small moan.

Louis laughs about the awkward response. He looks relieved and maybe even keen about my reaction. "Yeah, I know right," he says.

"Would you tell me about it?" I blurt mindlessly.

Louis cocks his head and smirks at me, then. I only notice the ambiguous meaning when he raises an eyebrow suggestively.

"No, oh god, no," I ramble and feel my own cheeks blush, "I mean like the whole thing. Like," I breathe to calm myself a bit and continue, "you know, the _bad thing_. Thing that made you..."

"Mean and bitter?" Louis jokes but he looks like he means it.

I only smile at him because I know that he is neither. Not really. When I look at him, I can feel all this admiration towards him. "Would you tell me?" I ask him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Louis' POV**

I knew it from the start. When I decided to tell him whatever he wants to know, last night, I knew that we would get to this question at some point. I don't like it, though. I hate thinking about that night. I have to dream about it sometimes and I've never talked about it. Not one word. To anybody. I can't even imagine how hard it is going to be to actually voice those things and hence, give them substance. And I'm so scared that he is going to judge me. What will he even think about me, afterwards? I can't lose him like that, after all that has happened.

"If you ask me to," I say cautiously, "I promised that I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Harry shakes his head. "But I don't want to force you. I only want you to tell me if you're comfortable with me knowing," he says.

I take a deep breath and look at him determinedly. "I'm so glad to have you back, you know that?" I say gently, trying to show him just how much I mean it, "You have no idea how grateful I am to have you. I trust you so much. And I do want to share with you. Everything. No matter how hard."

When he smiles at me with shining eyes, I muster up the last bit of courage and begin telling him the story. It's hard to find the words, even harder than I thought but I am determined to tell him every little detail and stay away from downplaying anything. Because I want him to know me. And I want him to truly understand. Even though I struggle with my words, Harry is such a good listener, being supportive and encouraging. He almost makes it bearable to go back to that night, seven years ago.

_He grabs my hair and groans quietly when I lick my flat tongue over the underside of his dick. I can tell from the sound of his breathing that he is trying to keep as quiet as possible. Nobody from outside the restroom is supposed to hear this. The bar is packed with people and if anyone finds out what we're doing in here, bad things happen. That's all I know. He told me if anyone finds out about this, we won't be able to ever go to The Iron Oak again._

_When I left for the bar, Niall didn't want to come with me so I went alone. I was just so sick of that old barn with rotting hay and wet walls that we've lived in for the past months. I needed to get out._

_The ginger guy that I ended up with in this toilet stall started talking to me while I was sitting alone at the counter. I immediately saw that he was a few years older than me, probably in his early 20s, and his friends on the other side of the room looked older, too. But he was obviously interested and I very much liked the attention. He told me he'd bring a round of shots to his pals and then meet me in the men's room. Before he left the bar counter he did another appreciating once over on my body. Sure enough, not three minutes later he was pressing me against the stall door, snogging me roughly._

_It's not my first blowjob, of course. I met the guy that I had practiced on at Burke's cyber cafe, like half a year ago. We had spent the whole summer meeting up in different places around the city, making out, and a whole lot of exploring our sexuality. It was exciting and amazing and I just couldn't get enough of the sex, but at some point he didn't want to meet anymore because his parents had started suspecting._

_The older guy above me seems to enjoy it. He is already leaking and I just hope he'll do something to me, too. But I don't know if I am allowed to ask for a blowjob or even a quick fuck. He's so much older and maybe he just wants me to get him off before he can return to his friends. Honestly, I'd be grateful either way. This right here gives me enough wanking material for at least a month._

_Just when I realize that he is only using me for a quick relief because he begins to fuck into my throat relentlessly, obviously aiming for a speedy finish, I hear the door to the men's room open. The other guy doesn't notice as timely as I do, making me gag around his member noisily before I can stop him and pull off._

_We both freeze and listen carefully but only a second later, the door closes again and the person who had interrupted us is gone._

_"Shit, that was a mistake," the ginger guy curses under his breath and is already pulling up his pants, "a huge mistake."_

_I look at him in confusion but get up to my feet, anyway. "Wait, what are you doing?" I say, wiping my wet lips with my sleeve, "They're gone. I can continue." I really don't want this to be over yet._

_The other guy laughs bitterly and pushes his shirt back into his pants, no sight of a bulge anywhere down there. "You think I can enjoy this, knowing that someone could've just heard us? Listen, you'll wait here for at least a minute. I'll go back to my mates. You can't come over to me, after you left this restroom. You can't even look my way, do you understand me? They will know."_

_Before I can reply or protest, the ginger guy turns around and leaves the men's room without looking back._

_Even though I am rather disappointed, I know that the guy is right so I count to 100 before I leave the cubicle. I check my look in the mirror on the opposite side of the room. I still look somewhat heated and messy but all I can do is straighten my clothes and ruffle my hair to make it look normal again. When I leave the restroom, I make sure that my gaze doesn't drift left or right. I head directly for the bar counter to ask the barkeeper for my jacket as there is not use staying here if I can't even look around the room without being scared to catch the redhead's eyes._

_When I exit the door, there are three different figures leaning against the wall, left and right to the entry. One is rather small and scrawny, another about my height and with a lit cigarette between his lips, and the third one tall and bulky. They all look at me suspiciously as I leave the bar, as if they were waiting for me. I want to move past them quickly because I can feel my heart beating faster. They don't strike me as trustworthy people and they look like they are at least 10 years older than I._

_But when I turn left and start walking away, the guy of my height grabs my arm and stops me right there. "Hey princess," he grunts in an arrogant tone, "Not so fast. We just wanna have a talk with you."_

_I look at him with wide eyes but don't know how to reply._

_"Someone just couldn't keep it in their pants, huh?" the bulky one says, walking over to stand right in front of me, and flashes his eyes at me, "Our friend here," he gestures lazily towards the third and smallest figure who seems to be hiding behind the medium-height guy that seems to be the leader of their group, "he heard you when he walked into the loo."_

_"We know what kind of a freak you are," the leader of the group adds with acid in his voice._

_Having heard the stories and warnings, I know exactly how bad this is. So I don't wait any longer and jump to make a run for it. But the bulky guy has long, strong arms, twisting it around my neck and holding me in place. I immediately start thrashing around and scream for help, but the other two guys grab my arms and all three of them start dragging me across the street. I have no chance._

_"We saw you walk out of the toilet with those pink cheeks and swollen lips, right behind that ginger filth," the bulky guy almost whispers into my ear, making a cold shiver run down my spine._

_"He can be lucky that he went to the bar with his friends," the leader says in a snarky tone, "He would've enjoyed the same treatment otherwise."_

_I haven't yet stopped protesting noisily but no help is forthcoming. The three men grip tighter the more I struggle. I know their hands will leave bruises tomorrow. The bulky guy is violently pulling on my hair and still choking me with his grip around my throat, making it hard for me to scream._

_"Let me go," I croak angrily and try to kick the smaller, hunched-over man in the side but it is not nearly as powerful as I had hoped._

_The others laugh at me but before they can say something, they are interrupted by a dark-haired guy, holding hands with his girlfriend. "Oi, easy lads," he calls from a few yards away, "I'm sure there's another way to solve this, no? He's just a kid."_

_"Piss off," the medium large man snarls at the guy, "The fag deserves what is coming. To have it off with another dude in public. Gross," he pretend-gags, "He asked for it. So get lost."_

_The other guy just stands there next to his girlfriend who looks absolutely terrified of the situation. I can see the battle in his eyes. He is contemplating whether to help or get out of here to protect his girl._

_"What?" the bulky guy booms, "Do you want the same treatment for protecting that poof?"_

_The guy looks at his girlfriend for a second, before he lifts his hands in surrender and pulls the girl along, away from the three men. And me. I can't help but feel betrayed and disappointed, even though I knew he'd rather save the girl and himself. That's what people do._

_They drag me into a dark alleyway and discard me next to a dumpster. Before I can scramble away, all three of them start kicking at me. I scream in pain. The kicks against my legs and shoulders hurt, but the kicks into my stomach kill. After just two well-placed kicks into the gut, I feel like throwing up._

_At first, I don't notice it because I am too preoccupied with the pain, but when a blob of spit lands at the corner of my lips, I realize that they are spitting on me, too. I gag and wipe it away with my sleeve but the disgusting feeling stays._

_I know that they are shouting at me, calling me horrible names, but I almost don't register it. All I can think of is that I hope they won't kill me or beat me to death. I am screaming at the top of my voice, screaming for help but nobody interferes. I know that there have to be people who can hear me, the street isn't far off. But still, nobody tries to save me from these disgusting men._

_Suddenly the bulky man crouches down next to my head, pulls me against his body, and closes his huge hand around my throat, again. My hands fly to his fingers in order to pull them off as I gasp for air. But the other two men are still kicking into my sides which makes it hard to concentrate on anything but the throbbing pain and my struggle for air._

_"You like that, don't you, little Princess," the bulky one grunts into my ear with his creepy undertone, "Doesn't that remind you of your faggy sex games?" He raises his other hand and forces a disgusting, salty tasting finger into my mouth, making me want to gag. "Isn't that where his cock was, a minute ago?" he puffs in a husky voice, "or did he straight up ram it up your obscenely big arse?"_

_With these words, he violently shoves his finger forward. He pushes so fast and far down my throat that I finally gag and all the alcohol I had tonight, makes a reappearance in the dark alley. Only that the grasp of the guy around my shoulders is so hard that I don't have any room to sit up or turn over. I can’t get it out of my mouth. The reeking vomit shoots through my nose instead, and gathers in the back of my mouth, almost making me suffocate on my own puke. When he finally lets go of me and I can spit out the rest of the vomit, I can feel the spilt stomach contents all over my face, down my neck, and on my clothes. My nasal cavity and my throat are burning from the acid in my stomach and all I can do is stifle a sob that is threatening to escape._

_The bulky man wipes over my mouth with his sleeve and holds me in place while the other two continue to pull on my clothes and kick against my joints. In my peripheral vision, I can see him staring at me with a weird look on his face. He occasionally goes to pull on my hair so hard that I wince, but this is the slightest problem I currently have._

_"What are you crying for?" the leader of the group snarls with a nasty grin on his face. I startle when I realize that he is right. I didn't even notice that tears have started to run over my temples, at some point. "Don't you like the male attention that you're getting, right now?" he scoffs, his eyes flickering to my pants, "You know what? I bet you'd like to show us your tiny little willy, am I right?"_

  1. _No, that's enough. Haven't I been punished enough?_



_Of course, I don't have any chance against these three grown men, and the muscular one is still holding me down, anyway. As if on cue, the small, crouched-over guy grabs onto my trousers and unceremoniously yanks them down, together with the pants. I whimper miserably and try to bend my knees to give myself some coverage but the leader slams his foot down on my ankle, making me scream in pain._

_The worst thing, however, isn't the pain, but the mortification and humiliation I feel. I've never thought I could ever feel this violated, in my entire life._

_"Aww, look at the tiny guy," the leader laughs sneeringly, "That's a pathetic excuse for a cock. Was the other poof very disappointed when he saw it?"_

_The other two burst into laughter, too. I struggle on the ground, tears streaming down my cheeks, but I have no chance to cover myself. I am shaking so hard that the horrible grimaces of the three man look blurry._

_The bulky man groans over my head and pushes his stinking finger back into my mouth, and a sob escapes my throat. I can't do this again. I can't throw up again. I still feel like struggling for air since the last time. No wonder._

_With the scary laughter of the other two men in my ear I bite down on the third guy's finger as hard as I can manage, making him scream in pain and rage._

_"You little shit," he yells and jumps to his feet, "You wanna play dirty? Let's play dirty," as he walks over to the other men, he looks at my exposed skin and rubs over his clothed junk with his hand, "if you're into disgusting kinks like being faggy, I bet you'll like this one as well," he bellows._

_When he is standing next to me, I notice in horror that his pants are slightly dented. He licks over his lips with glossy eyes and begins to unzip his pants._

_I jump so hard that I hit my skull against something and a splitting pain runs through my head. He can't be doing what it looks like he's about to do. No, please. A high pitched gasp escapes my lips and I can't seem to move anymore. It's like being trapped inside your worst nightmare, not being able to run away._

_When the other men start speaking, I realize faintly that they are shocked, too. "Mate, what the fuck are you doing?" I hear a voice._

_"Shut up, he'll like it," the bulky guy spits angrily, taking out his ugly, horrible, disgusting thing. I start crying again when I see that he indeed is already half hard. He pulls on it roughly, a few times, his eyes on my still exposed crotch. You know what, you dirty little boy with filthy kinks, I think you should take a shower."_

_Before I can process his words, I can hear a splatter and suddenly warm water hits my thighs. Only that it isn't water. I scream and cry and beg the man to stop, but him and the other two only laugh louder and more menacing than before. He starts swinging his prick around to distribute his urine all over my body; my legs, my torso, my crotch, my face._

_I feel too exhausted and humiliated, and everything hurts too much to do more than press my eyes and lips together and try not to gag again from the disgusting stench._

_I almost don't register anymore when they kick against my slack body once more and then, take off, laughing and shoving at each other in joy. "Hope you've learnt your lesson, fag," and "Won't go that easy on you next time around," I hear them calling before they exit the alleyway. They seem like they just had a light-hearted conversation with a pal, not this shameful monstrosity of an encounter._

_I wait until I can't hear their horrifying voices anymore, before I turn over and start bawling into the dirty ground. I don't think I have ever cried so hard since my mom died. Why did they leave me like this? I wish they would've beaten me until I’d blacked-out. I wish they would've just killed me. Everything hurts. My entire body is covered in bruises and cuts and scratches. My trousers are still pooling around my ankles and my exposed skin is being cut open by some broken shards on the ground, but I don't care. My whole body smells like the guy's urine and that's only a fraction of the utter humiliation I feel. I don't ever want to get up. I don't ever want to talk to another person ever again. So I keep lying there on the dirty ground, face in my own vomit, and sobbing until my throat burns with soreness._


	51. Chapter Fifty-One

**Louis' POV**

When I am finished talking, Harry looks at me in horror. His face is ashen and his eyes are filled with tears. But I know that he is trying to keep them from spilling, for my sake. He doesn't say anything, only raises his hand to gently wipe his thumb under my eyes. I didn't even notice that I had started to cry while talking. When I finally become aware of my body again, I notice that my hands are sweaty and I am shaking.

"I think the hunky guy was gay, too," I say with a hoarse voice and suddenly feel clear about it. I look at Harry and when I see his expression, I start sobbing again, one hand hiding my face. He doesn't reply. Instead, he takes my shaking hand into his own, caressing the back of it with his thumb. He doesn't even seem to mind the sweat on my palms.

I sniffle quietly before I start speaking again. "I mean, I could be wrong. He could've just been aroused by the brutality of it all. Like, some people get off on violence, right? I mean like real violence. The one that has nothing to do with sex. There are people like that out there, right? But I don't think that was it for him," I rant in a frantic voice.

I can't seem to stop. I've never spoken about that night, never voiced my recollections of it. Now that they are out, I feel like I have found an outlet. A tool to release all that bottled-up fear and horror that I carried around for 7 years. It feels like I might have a nervous breakdown if I stop talking.

"I think he got aroused because of _me_ ," I say in a rushed voice, "Young teenage boy," I breathe shakily, "at his mercy. Naked. He-he kept looking at me with those-" I hick up and another sob escapes my mouth before I can finish the sentence.

"Shh, breathe, love," Harry whispers reassuringly, pushing my fringe out of my eyes affectionately without letting go of me with his other hand. He looks at me and waits until I nod and we both take a breath together.

"He looked at me with those greedy eyes," I continue when my breath has calmed down a bit, "and he seemed to like all those sexual things. Like choking me and sticking his finger into my mouth and," I swallow hard because my mouth has gone dry from all the talking, "and he kept on asking me what I like and what exactly I did with the guy on the toilet and I just-" another sob escapes my throat and I squinch my eyes shut when I feel tears building up behind them again.

I can feel Harry's arms loop around my shoulders before they pull me close to his chest, our legs getting tangled in the process. But it doesn't matter how uncomfortable our position is. When I feel his warm chest pressing again mine, I hide my face in his shoulder and start crying silently. Harry caresses my back comfortingly and presses as kiss against my temple.

"I was so scared, Harry," I say in between two sobs and bury my fingers into his shirt.

"Oh darling," Harry whispers in his deep, calm voice, "My sweet, beautiful boy," he says into my ear and raises his hand to run his fingers through my hair. At the feeling, a shudder runs through me and I sigh when I feel my body relax gradually. "I am so sorry that this has happened to you," he adds quietly, and I know that he means it. Not in a pitying way but in an honest and caring way.

He makes me feel like I am worth something. Like he really wants me to be happy. My whole body shakes from the next wave of sobs. But I don't even feel embarrassed in front of him for some reason.

"Shh, sweetheart," he whispers against my hair, rocking us sideways, "I'm here. You're save now."

When I hear his last sentence, I perk up to look into his eyes. "But I'm not, am I," I say in a high-pitched tone, "They never leave me. Those memories, I mean. I never stopped having nightmares of that night. It's been seven fucking years and they keep coming back to me."

My hands fumble with Harry's shirt front in frantic motions before he pulls me into his chest again, resting his chin on my shoulder. "I'm here, baby. I'm right here," he says, instead of disagreeing with me.

It makes my shoulders sink, but at the same time, I am glad that he doesn't lie to me. I feel like I can't stop crying as I lie in Harry's arms. He keeps on rocking us, whispering sweet nothings into my ear, and his hands never leave my body until I finally feel myself calming down a bit. I don't know how long it takes. Maybe ten minutes, maybe 20.

He is absolutely amazing and sweet and patient, and I can't even begin to say how lucky I am. Even though it was difficult to open up and talk, I can positively say that it feels a hundred times better than I thought. And the reason is Harry and the way he is handling it and helping me through it.

"I love you so much, Lou," he tells me after I've stopped shaking from sobs for a good couple of minutes, "You're so loved. You know that? So loved, baby."

I don't seem to be able to utter words in reply. I only sit there, still holding on tight to him and breathing in his heady scent.

He doesn't seem to mind my lack of response. "I love you so much and I am so proud to know such a strong, beautiful person," he says and there is a hint of a smile in his voice.

I finally raise my head from his shoulder again, and begin to pluck at his shirt, not looking at him. "But I wasn't strong," I tell him, "I wanted to die when they left me there in that alley," my voice only cracks a tiny bit, probably the aftermath of all the crying this morning, "I wanted to die and never talk to anyone ever again and... and I let them win. They won, Harry," I raise my eyes and they meet warm, sincere, green ones, "They accomplished exactly what they wanted when they did that to me. They made me hate myself and hide myself as much as possible. And they made me settle with feeling miserable for the rest of my life."

"But you got through it," Harry says urgently, moving his hands to my waist and keeping me steady, "And you're still alive. And you started talking to people again, eventually, right?" he gives me a smile, "You opened up again. You were so strong," he tells me and slowly starts rubbing his hands up and down my sides, "you _are_ so strong. And I am so proud to know you."

He lifts his hand to caress my cheek. When a faint smile forms on my lips and I lower my head to meet his palm, he leans forward to brush his lips over my forehead. He hums lowly, like a content little chuckle, and places another kiss on my left cheek and then on my right cheek and after that, on my nose. The emotion this simple act provokes inside me, pulls a sudden chuckle from my throat while I revel in the warm feeling that spreads through my body.

"Those men," Harry continues sternly, "they were cruel and heartless and sick and probably very frustrated about the fact that they had nobody who loves them. Everything they did and said was out of pure jealousy and loneliness and hate."

I really appreciate his kind words but I don't feel like he is right about it. Those men weren't jealous. There is nothing about me to be jealous of. "Well, whatever reason they had," I sigh in exhaustion, "they managed to make that night haunt me in my dreams even now."

Harry pulls me into a strong hug again and I happily sink into it. "I was wrong about you, love," he says after a short pause, "You're not a coward. Not at all. You never were. I am sorry."

A smile pulls on my lips again but I don't show it to him. "Don't apologize," I whisper instead and place a small kiss on his collarbone, "I was a jerk and I absolutely deserved some name-calling in return." I furrow my eyebrows in consideration, "You know, now that I think about it. I didn't have those nightmares an awful lot since I've met you..."

"You didn't?" Harry says in a puzzled tone while his hands push me back so he can make eye contact with me. His eyes look at me in hope, but also in confusion.

"I guess..." I say and shrug my shoulders, "I never thought about it before. But maybe," I smile at him in admiration and let my fingers play with his curls without breaking eye contact," I don't know, maybe your confidence and strength about your sexuality have shown me that it's kinda, you know," I pull him even closer to me, "okay..."

"It's not just okay, love," he smiles fondly, and takes both of my hands into his, lacing our fingers, "It's beautiful."

I lift one of our intertwined hands and quietly brush his knuckles over my lips. My heart is racing in my chest. It feels like it is ready to jump right out of my throat. He is right. How can this be anything other than beautiful?

"I wish I hadn't let them win," I say in a low voice without looking at Harry.

Harry brushes his thumb over my lips and the feeling rushes through all of my body. "But you didn't let them win," he smiles at me and there is something like pride or admiration in his eyes that take me completely off guard, "Don't you see it? You are the only one who came out as a winner. _You_ are the one who is brave and caring and kind. _You_ are the one who overcame that horrible, horrible time. _You_ are the one who is loved by all of his friends. _You_ are the one who everyone looks up to, no matter how small and insignificant those bastards made you feel."

A tiny chuckle escapes my throat at hearing Harry curse. I probably wouldn't find it so funny if Harry didn't just make me feel like flying with all the things that he said about me.

"And even though they tried to make you feel like nobody would ever love you and you would never find someone who you can love back, you fought against it," he says and presses another quick kiss on top of my nose, "So hard, Louis. You fought so hard. And while they are probably the same bitter, cruel, heartless people they were back then, _you_ are the one who made a simple man truly and completely fall in love with you."

I stare into Harry's green eyes, lips parted. How is he even real? How did I deserve him? I can feel tears gathering up in my eyes again but this time they are threatening to spill because I am so incredibly touched by his words. "Harry..." I breathe, unable to form any other constellation of sounds.

A warm smile spreads across Harry's face before he cups my cheek tenderly and leans in to touch his pink lips with mine. I immediately respond and sigh in relief as if I'd been waiting for this, the whole morning. Well, maybe I did. Harry keeps the kiss soft and sweet. Our lips move against each other slowly and in this moment, nothing else in the world exists apart from us.

Eventually, Harry pulls away and touches his forehead with mine again, checking my eyes for something. I love this position. I love having his face so close to my own that it is hard to see anything else, but so very easy to lean in and kiss him. I listen to his breathing for a minute, not knowing what to make of his watchful eyes.

"Thank you for listening to my ranting," I whisper with a self-depreciating chuckle.

"Always, darling," Harry replies quietly and brushes our lips together once more.

However, before he can really kiss me again, I pull away. But only an inch. I already feel guilty for what I am about to address. "I love you, you know that, right?" I say under my breath and Harry responds with a fond smile, so I continue, "I just... you know," I don't know how to say this. I don't want to go and disappoint him again. "Well, still," I clear my throat, "do you get it if I don't want anyone to know?" I force out and brush my nose against his affectionately to show him that this doesn't mean I take back anything that I said. "About this," I clarify quietly, “About us."

When I look into Harry's eyes, feeling somewhat scared, I see that his expression is stern, thoughtful. His fingertips are moving over my jawline. He has clearly noticed the caution in my voice. "Of course, Louis," he says to my relief and places a soft kiss on my cheek, "That's absolutely fine. I know we can't tell anyone. Don't worry. We're fine. Aren't we fine?"

When I hear his words, I smile brightly (teeth out and all) for the first time since telling him about that night. "Absolutely," I chuckle and hide my silly grin in his chest. But he pushes me away and tackles me instead, tickling my sides and my neck until I'm out of breath from laughing so hard.

"Stop it, Harry, please," I giggle, "I surrender, you got me. You have me, you win."

Harry throws his head back, laughing in delight, and flops down onto my chest, hugging my body against his. But we can't seem to stop laughing, repeatedly placing kisses on each other’s faces and shoulders and necks.

I don't think I’ve ever been as happy as I am right in this moment. In fact, I never even dreamed of ever feeling this happy with anyone. It is like pure bliss, touching his skin and feeling his face buried in the crook of my neck. I never want to leave this place. I'd be perfectly happy to stay in this tent forever.

But unfortunately, this feeling can only be temporary. Our time is already running out, our countdown has already been set. I promised him that I’ll let him go. I don't like it, but I know it is the right thing to do. I can't keep him against his will, anymore. Now more than ever. I feel horrible about losing him. I just got him, for God's sake. But it's no use. I need to bring him home.

"I can't believe that we only have mere hours before you go home to your family," I say, having sobered up quite a bit, "I hate it. I don't want to lose you, Hazza. Ever. But that's also why I have to let you go."

"You won't lose me, baby," he whispers and I can feel his breath touching my skin. His face is hovering only an inch over mine. He leans in and presses a kiss on my temple, his lips lingering there for a moment.

Suddenly, I can feel them twisting up into a smile. "Though, I really am curious about what the others will think of your decision," he says with a smirk in his voice.

I chuckle lightly. Yeah, they'll probably be slightly surprised. "Why, they'll be delighted, of course," I wink at him and laugh.


	52. Chapter Fifty-Two

**Louis' POV**

Not two hours later, we are on our way back to the cave. My heart aches every time I remember that I'll have to say goodbye to Harry when we arrive there. Our little fairytale is almost over. I can't believe that it took me so long to allow myself to be happy. And now that I am happy, now that I have him, I have to let him go again. But when I look at him sideways, I feel so many emotions at the same time - adoration, desire, happiness, love - that there just isn't much room for sorrow.

He is sitting in the passenger seat, tapping his fingertips against the door and clapping his other hand on his knee to the beat of the music that is playing on the radio. His hair falls on the side of his face and down to his shoulders where the tips brush against his shirt because he is rocking his head slightly. There's a content smile on his lips as he stares out of the windshield. He's obviously enjoying the music. It's beautiful to watch.

I want to reach for him and put my hand on his thigh just to be closer to him and touch him, but I resist the urge and force my eyes back on the road. There are two other boys inside the car and two more on the truck bed, along with our equipment and also the motorbike of the Grey Skin. Obviously I can't put my hand on Harry's thigh in front of them. But just knowing that technically I could do that now makes my insides tingle and I smile.

"I'm really glad you're still here," I hear Peter's voice from the back seat, after we've all been quiet for a while. I'm not surprised by his words. All of the boys reacted with utter excitement when they saw him stepping out of our tent after me, this morning. They hadn't noticed our arrival in the middle of the night of course, so they we're literally jumping towards him in surprise when they saw that he was back.

From the corner of my eye, I register that Harry turns around to Peter. "Yeah?" he says in surprise and smiles, "Well, I'm really glad, too."

His words make me look at him again. I really want him to mean that he's glad to be here because of me. I catch him glancing at me but instead of looking away, a smile spreads across his face. I take that as a yes.

"Don't get too used to it, Pet. He's going home to his family today, remember? Leaving us to our misery," I say and try to make it sound funny to hide my dismay.

"Lou," Harry says quietly, regret obvious in his voice. Of course he would easily look past my act and detect my discomfort. "That's not what this is. You know it's not," he says gloomily.

"Yes, I know," I sigh but I can’t feel positive about it.

"Well, we'll miss you," Peter says in the back, "but you'll be with your family again. That's awesome! We can all relate, we want nothing else."

"I wish you could all get your families back, too," Harry tells him. I can hear the guilt in his voice, but I think that's unnecessary. It's not his fault.

"Yeah, but you know, we're all a family in our gang. We have each other. That's pretty great," Peter says and I see him shrug in the rearview mirror, "And honestly, to me, you're part of the family too, Harry. Don't you think so, Louis?"

Again, I look at Harry to check his expression. He looks at me expectantly and if I'm not completely mistaking, with a hint of a smirk. Does he think he can be smug with me, all of a sudden? Just because I let him call me sweet cheeks now, doesn't mean he can start acting up. "Yup, you're right Peter. When Harry is around, I feel like I'm sitting on my mum's sunny patio with family," I agree and give Harry a fake smile, "His jokes are as bad as those of old uncle Ernie and he smells just like my beloved nan."

Harry smiles happily until he processes my words and it falls right off of his face. "Well, you're not very funny either. You're jokes are just hurtful and nobody is laughing about them- stop laughing back there, by the way," he turns around to the two boys who are holding their tummies from laughter, "It's not helping," he turns to me again with a deep frown, "Nobody likes your jokes, Louis."

I smirk sideways while keeping my eyes on the street. "Oh, come on. Suck it up, Harold. Even your comebacks are weak," I chuckle in amusement.

"Well, sorry that I don't have such a filthy mouth as you do," he huffs and pulls his long legs up to his chest. I only snicker, convinced that I have won this round. As always.

"But don't worry," he leans over the center console to whisper in my ear, "I'll help you clean it, later." Then he artlessly moves back over to his seat again as if nothing happened.

In the meantime, my hands are cramping on the stirring wheel and I can feel my ears turning hot. Where the hell did that come from? God, if only he knew how much he drives me insane when he says stuff like that. All innocent from the outside but very ambiguous if you know the details. The first time he did that was when I took Linda and Harry to the pond and he made that comment about him being wet.

The Harry next to me looks absolutely pleased with himself as he rubs his hands together with a big smile and starts pushing some buttons on the radio. "Oooh, I love that song," he exclaims, throws himself back into his seat, and starts bawling out the lyrics of the song he had just found. What a little fucker.

The rest of the way we spend singing along to the most annoying songs which pisses off the two other boys in the backseat and only encourages us to sing even louder. When we finally reach home, Zayn and Liam are already waiting for us, sitting in the sun. They are deep in conversation.

They immediately get up to meet us when they see the car approaching. I stop the engine and open the door. "Oi oi, losers," I greet them with a huge grin, standing on the little door ledge, "The peace and quiet is over, my friends. Yo main man is back."

"Someone's in a good mood," Liam laughs as he walks around the car to help unload it.

"Those two have been annoying af, in the past hour," Peter grumbles and nods his head in my and Harry's direction. He grabs his bag and seems to be determined to put as much distance between himself and us, in the shortest amount of time possible.

I look at Harry and wink at him when nobody pays attention. Yeah, we might have been somewhat exhausting in the last hour of our drive. And I really am in a good mood.

Before I can call for the boy to come back and help putting the stuff away, Liam distracts me by calling from the back of the car, "Woah, what's that?"

"Where did you get the bike from, mate?" Zayn asks when he reaches Liam and jumps onto the truck bed.

"Long story," I say and jump to the ground, slamming the door shut, "I'll tell you when Niall's with us. We also have to show you something else, but let's just bring all the stuff inside."

"Yeah, we have to show you something as well," Liam says as he throws a sleeping bag down to me.

We unload the car and carry the stuff back to the cave. The bike, we leave outside with the other cars of course. We just put the tents and bags down at the entry of the main hall for now, to say hi to everyone. It's good to be back. The cave isn't the most comfortable of places, but it is home. And it's good to see my friends again.

Suddenly, I hear a high-pitched scream and flip my head around. Linda is sitting at the table, apparently just having her lunch. She has two little pig tails today that are slightly crooked, making her look like an adorable but crazy horror movie character as she jumps down from her chair and starts running towards us. She must've just seen us coming in.

It doesn't take long to realize that she is running directly towards Harry, and it doesn't surprise me. She was completely infatuated with him, right from the start. I don't blame her. When Harry who is standing next to me, closes his arms around her and picks her up, I watch him with a smile on my lips. Yes, I absolutely see why she is so in love with the boy.

"Hawwy," she squeals and hugs him tightly.

Harry chuckles and rocks them slightly. "Hey princess," he murmurs in her ear, "did you have a nice few days?"

Linda pulls away to show Harry her nodding head and beaming face.

"Well, hopefully they weren't too great," I interrupt them from three feet away, "I can't allow you to have more fun when I'm gone than when I'm here." I know Linda won't get my joke, but it doesn't matter.

She turns her head to me, still smiling, and reaches out to me, making grabby hands.

"Ah, there you go," I smile and step closer to them, "I thought I wouldn't even get a hello from you anymore."

I poke her belly with a grimace and watch her squirm away in delight. Somehow, all three of us end up hugging each other. Or actually, Linda is hugging me and Harry, and it's easier for me to loop my arms around Harry as well. And honestly, I don't mind. I'm happy about any excuse to touch him.

Linda is kind of wedged in between us pressing our heads against hers so hard, I start laughing. She really seems to have missed us. After a while, she pulls away but only to press a sloppy kiss against both of our cheeks.

"Ooh," I raise my eyebrows at her jokingly, "This is getting a bit intense here. Pulling two blokes at the same time, I see. I don't even wanna know what it's going to be like when you grow up, love," I wink at her and pull away from the embrace, my hand lingering on Harry's hip for a split second, but he notices and smiles at me.

We walk over to the others who have gathered around the table to have some lunch which consists of bread and eggs, today. I have definitely not missed our horrible bread while I was away. I've gotten so used to Harry's bread in the past couple of days.

"Hey, pool owner," Niall calls across the table when he sees us sitting down next to him, "I've missed you, pal," he smiles and bumps his fist with Harry. They actually look like friends. I'm so glad he always had Niall, even in the beginning when I thought I had to be a total dick.

When we got here, Linda decided that she wanted to sit in between Harry and I, and as we all know, Linda always gets what she wants. Even though I was kind of hoping to be sitting next to my boyfriend. My boyfriend. A smile crosses my face when I look at his profile that's chewing down on the bread of horror. I’m smiling an awful lot lately. I don't even know how to stop anymore. But instead of making me feel weird, it just feels nice.

"So, Tommo, did you manage to teach the boys anything on the trip?" Liam asks from the other side of the table.

"Payno," I cock my head to the side, narrowing my eyes mockingly, "People just can't _help_ but learn stuff when they hang out with me," I joke.

"Yeh, for example: why it's annoying to be a twat," Liam counters with a roll of his eyes.

I smirk at him. I've missed my banter with the nerd.

"Oh guys, you're back," Perrie comments when she joins us at the table, "Did you have a good trip? Linda, sweetheart, look what I've found," she continues without waiting for an answer and pushes Linda's little rag doll across the table as she sits down next to Zayn, "Now you don't want her to feel alone, right?" She smiles at the girl who takes the doll gratefully.

Linda turns to the side to look at Harry. She hugs the doll to her chest and pets over her head. "This is Tinter," she says in her toddler voice, "She protets me."

"Really?" Harry smiles, genuinely happy, "That's really nice of her, isn't it?"

Linda nods her head, her pigtails bopping in all directions. "Do you have a Tinter, too?" she asks.

Harry stares at Linda for a moment as if pondering, his smile never dropping. "Well," he finally says and looks around the room to see if anyone is listening, "I guess Louis kind of is my Tinker. He protects me just like Tinker protects you."

He smiles at me shyly, knowing full well that I am listenig to their conversation, but I can't do anything than blink my eyes at him. My insides feel like they're purring contently, right now, like a cat that is satisfied with all the petting she's gotten today. Why have I deprived myself of this for so long? I could've had this all along if I hadn't been so stubborn and scared all the time. Nobody would've had to know. It could've had just been our thing. Just him and me. But I was too stupid to take it. Well, at least now I have him.

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling like an idiot but fail. I'm even about to lean over and tell Linda that he protects me a lot more than I him, but I am prevented from doing so by Perrie who reaches across the table. "Love, say bye to Harry and Louis," she says to Linda sweetly, "we're going outside for a bit. The weather is beautiful."

"Can Hawwy come?" she asks with a pout but Perrie shakes her head.

I can already see her throwing a tantrum but then Harry says, "I'll follow as soon as I can, alright?" he promises her, "You'll see me again in no time, deal?"

That seems to be acceptable for her as she flops down her chair and skips away from the table without another complaint.

"So, Tommo," Liam raises his voice when Perrie and Beth left the cave with a handful of kids, "We really need to show you what we've found a couple of days ago. It's important."

"Yeah, we might be in some serious trouble," Niall agrees.

"What kind of trouble," I frown and think of the Grey Skin who followed us on our trip.

"We'll tell you on the way, I reckon," Liam says as he gets up from the table, "We put it into the storage halls for now, just so it's save."

I'm a little irritated about the fact that he doesn't just tell me what they found, but at the same time I feel so mystified about it that I almost don't mind. We walk through the tunnels, joking around and laughing. The four captains and Harry. The other boys include Harry as if he was one of us and he doesn't hold back either. It feels like only now, we are complete. Now that it is Niall, Liam, Zayn, me, and Harry. It's the weirdest feeling ever, but in a very good way. While walking next to Harry, I even want to take his hand into mine, but there are things you just can't do if you want to keep your friends.

After about five minutes, we reach the storage halls and the guys lead me to the one where we keep our weaponry. I immediately see that there's a box that hasn't been there before, a big one. I'd fit in there at least three times. It's covered with an old blanket, though, blocking my view from whatever is inside.

"Liam found it on our way to work," Niall tells me as we approach it, "It was hidden just at the edge of the forest."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't have found it if Niall hadn't seen the clues," Liam says and yanks away the blanket.

"Clues? What-" I say but stop when I see the contents of the box.

It is filled to the brim with weapons. Guns, big jack knifes, I can even see a huge machinegun. Who even has those except for the police and army? There are also some mysterious black boxes and things I've never seen. This looks like enough weapons for at least two dozen people.

I look at Liam with a mixture of confusion, horror, and appreciation. "What the hell," I say under my breath, "What is that?"

"So, we were driving to work, and suddenly we saw a little sign scraped into the big oak tree by the crossroads," Niall starts telling the story, "By now we figured out that it was probably a picture of a bird, and it pointed in our direction."

"Sparrows," Zayn threw in for explanation.

"Yes, and then we saw a grey scarf tied around a tree just when we were about to exit the forest," Niall continues, "And that's where we found all this stuff."

"It was definitely meant for us," Liam says, going through the weapons carefully, "I think someone is planning to attack our gang. These are explosives, by the way," he points to one of the black boxes.

"Yeah and, by the looks of it, they are planning on completely erasing us," Zayn grunts with scowling eyes.

I look at Harry, once again thinking of the Grey Skin that had followed us. I can see in his eyes that he is thinking the exact same thing.

"Do you know who could be behind it?" I ask the others but they all shake their heads.

"We think it might be the Grey Skins," Harry tells them, slightly surprising me about his participation, "The grey scarf would make sense if it was them."

I nod my head. "We have to show you guys something, too," I tell them, "Our trip wasn't quite a relaxing one, to be honest."

"No it wasn't," Harry agrees and a chuckle escapes him until he realizes that the other three boys look at him with frowns. Of course they don't get what's funny about the comment. I, on the other hand, do get it and smirk at him.

"Sorry, guys," Harry says and clears his throat, "It was just quite the eventful past few days."

"Yeah, and the bike that we brought home belonged to a Grey Skin, too," I say and put the blanket back over the box.

"What bike?" Niall asks in confusion.

"Well, we brought a motor bike home," I tell him, "The Grey Skin doesn't need it anymore and we thought we could put it to good use if we take it with us. Let's go, I'll show you what else he left for us," I say and turn around to leave the storage halls, "And then, we'll tell you the whole story. Because Harry here," I say and put my arm around his shoulders in a laddy bro pal way, "had quite the interesting encounter with the guy."

Harry looks at me sideways and smiles. He knows that in reality, I am still scared when I think about that night. But I am glad that he knows it. I wouldn't want him to think that I take his life easily.

Nonetheless, I let go of him again as we walk back to the main hall.

"Really?" Niall says in worry, "You're okay though, right?"

"Yes, absolutely," Harry beams, "Now, I am great."

"Good," Zayn says, scratching his neck, "I just hope you had time to actually teach the boys something. You know I didn't take your crap comment before. I want a real report," he jokes but looks somewhat huffy, "That’s the least you can do if you already don't take me on the trip."

"Don't act so butthurt, Malik," I scoff, "Be glad that it wasn't you who almost died in their first night of the trip."

Three heads whip around to me when I've finished the sentence. "Died?!" Liam says in shock.

But before I can answer, I hear a remote but terrible scream echoing through the tunnels.

We all stop in our tracks and listen. It's high-pitched and sounds like someone is screaming at the top of their voice. It's a girl’s voice and it sounds bloodcurdling.

"Perrie," Zayn suddenly whispers, before he bolts forwards and sprints down the hall, screaming, "PERRIE!"


	53. Chapter Fifty-Three

**Louis' POV**

Now that Zayn has said her name, I do recognize the screaming voice as Perrie's. The rest of us doesn't hesitate to run after Zayn. As we get closer, I can hear other voices, too. Panicked, desperate voices.

When we reach the main hall, we seem to walk into a madhouse. There are people running around in panic or sitting in random places, crying. But most of them are standing in a packed crowd looking at something that must be hidden in their midst. Whatever it is, it must be a horrible view as they all look appalled and some are crying and screaming in fearful voices. What happened here?

Before I can get to the bottom of the situation, I see Perrie emerging from the crowd. Her face is tear-stained and her hair is a mess but the view that makes my heart stop for a moment is the blood that covers all of her chest and her arms and hands, and even some of her face.

"Perrie!" Zayn yells again, running towards her. His voice is thick with fear.

"Oh, Zayn!" she sobs and runs into his arms, falling apart completely when she reaches him, "I couldn't help it, Zayn. I couldn't help it!" She sobs into his shoulder, clutching his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping her from falling to her knees.

Zayn tries to soothe her, stroking her hair and her blood-stained arms, but it doesn't work. "Shh, sweetheart," he says calmly but he turns his head to meet my eye in horror. I don't know what to make of all of this, either. Nor do the other boys next to me.

"It all happened so fast. I didn't see it coming," Perrie cries hysterically.

Zayn gently pushes her shoulders back only far enough to have a look at her face and her torso. "What happened to you," he asks, his voice giving away how upset he is about the whole situation, "Where have you been hurt, Pez?"

At his words, Perrie buries her face in both of her palms and falls against Zayn's chest again. "It's not my blood, Zayn," she sobs almost incoherently, "It's not mine!"

Liam and I look at each other in alarm. If it’s not Perrie and she looks like this, somebody must be losing a terrifying amount of blood. Just the amount of blood that the blonde girl is covered in looks troubling.

When Liam starts running towards the crowd of people, I do the same. My heart begins to pound in my chest even though I can't quite decipher why. I still don’t know what’s going on, but I can feel that something unspeakable must've happened.

Even though everyone is hysterical and distraught, they easily make way for me and Liam to get to the middle of the crowd. At first I can't really process the scene that reveals itself to us. All I can process is Beth kneeling on the floor and holding Linda's blood-soaked ragdoll in her hands. She's sobbing, too, and rambling some unintelligible words. But I can't put the picture together. It's like I'm stuck in a dream with so many odd things happening that you can't make out the core of the situation.

For some reason, it is Liam's reaction that makes me focus on the important part of the scenery in front of me. "No. Fuck," he gasps and falls to his knees next to me, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Finally, I see Linda lying on the floor, right where Liam just dropped down. She looks like she is sleeping but her face is ashen. Her already lopsided pigtails look even more crooked than half an hour ago. She almost looks peaceful but her entire body is covered in thick, red blood. I can still see it trickling out of her torso. There are at least three punctures from where it is leaking inexorably.

I feel my body going into shock. I can't seem to move a single muscle. My insides seem to scream and go numb at the same time. I can't think, I can't move, I can't feel. I don't even know what this all means. Or at least my brain is telling me that I don't know the meaning.

"What happened?" Liam says breathlessly, touching Linda's face.

Beth snuffles on the opposite side of the tiny body, before she sobs again. "We were outside and the little ones were playing and it was nice," she says through her tears, "then we heard gunshots and she fell to the ground and within seconds she was covered in blood," a strangled sob escaped her throat, and when she continues her voice sounds an octave higher in terror, "Perrie carried her inside immediately but it was too late!"

My heartbeat is too slow. Much too slow. I can feel it pounding heavily inside my chest, but rarely and at odd times. I look down at Linda's motionless body and notice how my head is starting to spin. I feel like I need to puke.

Liam lifts Linda's shirt to look at the bullet wounds. There are three tattered puncture holes in her chest and tummy and the view nearly makes me throw up. There is so much blood staining her skin. It’s a sickening sight. This is worlds away from seeing a grown man with bullet wounds. This is abdominal. Her tiny body with her soft skin, broken and defiled.

Liam hurries to check her pulse beneath her ear. When he comes to a conclusion, he doesn't say anything. His hands only fall back into his lap in slow-motion. After a moment of complete silence he adjusts the little girl's clothes and runs his hands over his face in black despair.

I still can't move. This can only be a dream. This cannot be happening. Not Linda. No!

"What's going on?" I suddenly hear Harry's voice behind me. For some reason, this is the only thing that seems to force my body into action again.

First, my brain starts functioning again. By the distance of his voice, I know that Harry hasn't reached the middle of the crowd, yet. Every alarm bell inside my head screams at me not to let him see the little girl. It is obvious how much Harry has started to care for Linda in these past weeks. It would crush him to see her like this. It doesn't take a brilliant mind to know how much it would affect him. He has such a big heart. I have to protect it.

When my mind has come to this conclusion, I can finally start feeling my body again. I jerk around in horror and push past the last person separating Harry from the view. Harry is right there, trying to get a glimpse. I press my open palms against his chest, desperately pushing him backwards, but Harry puts up resistance.

"No! You can't," I shout at him with urgency, "Stay here. Please, I can’t let you see this, Harry."

He stares at me with big confused eyes until he sees the pain in my expression. His eyebrows lower into a frown as he tries to look past me but I am still pushing against his chest to try and keep him away.

"I want to see this, Louis," he says to me, closing his hands around my wrists, "What's wrong? I'm worried, Lou."

"Nothing is wrong, just- just go, alright?" I plea and feel desperate tears building up behind my eyes. I can't let him see her. I have to protect him.

When Harry looks at me again, his lips fall open slightly. His green eyes dart over every part of my face as he reaches up to brush his thumb over my cheek. Only then, I realize that the tears are already spilling. I have never felt so powerless in my life.

"What's wrong, Louis?" he repeats in concern, "Please, let me through. I wanna help."

"You can't," I grunt and a sob escapes my mouth, "Please. Stay. Harry."

Instead of replying, he takes my wrists again and detaches my hands from his chest. But before he can push past me, I throw myself against his torso again. He's taller than me, but not stronger.

When he doesn't stop fighting back, I twist my arms around his upper body and hug him to my chest. "No, Harry, I mean it. You can't," I groan into his shoulder.

I can feel Harry's resistance subside immediately before he hugs me back, running his hands up and down my spine to calm me down.

But it doesn't help. It doesn't change anything. The last row of people is still blocking Harry's view from the little girl, but it doesn't bring her back to life, either. "She's dead, Harry," I sob quietly to try and warn him. He'll find out soon enough. But maybe, if I warn him, he will stop trying to get through to her. "She's dead! I can't let you see her. Not you!"

Harry's body freezes in my embrace and I hear him sucking air. "Who?" he says in horror, beginning to struggle against me again, "Louis, let me through," he says firmly now.

I try my hardest to resist but he finally pushes both of us further to the front. He is still hugging me tightly but his mind is somewhere else.

"No, please!" I scream at him, but it is too late.

I can't see his face, can't see anything but his t-shirt but I feel his body stop moving again, and I know that he has seen her. I’m aware that I look pathetic but I can't keep myself from hopelessly starting to cry into his shirt when I think of what he must feel at this moment. For some reason, I can't set my mind to the things I am feeling. I can't pay attention to the hurt in my chest over the tragedy that happened to the little girl. All I can think of is _his_ pain.

At some point, I raise my head to look at Harry's face. He seems to have stopped breathing in my arms. He looks just as ashen as Linda, all drained of blood. His fingers are covering his parted lips and his eyes are glassy and far away. He seems to be in as much of a shock as I was when I first saw her. He looks absolutely scary like this. I want to shake him and make him show some kind of emotion but I am scared that this emotion would break my heart.

For what feels like years, we stay in the same spot while I hug him to my chest, shattered that I couldn't keep him from seeing this. That I couldn't protect him.

Suddenly someone else pushes through the crowd, shoving some kids away. "Liam! Louis!" I hear his voice and raise my head. It's Carlos and he is holding some piece of paper in his hand. "I ran outside right when Perrie brought her in. I’d hoped I could get the bastard in time but they were gone when I got there," he explains.

"What's that?" Liam points at the note in Carlos' hand.

He hands it over to the captain before he answers, "I found it close to the cars. It was pinned against a tree with a knife." His eyes flicker to Linda momentarily and he curses under his breath before crouching down to her and Beth.

I can feel my pulse starting to quicken up again while watching Liam's face as he reads the note. I detach myself from the motionless Harry completely and step next to Liam to get a look at the piece of paper, too. It says:

"THIS IS FOR OUR BROTHER AND THE SAME THING WILL HAPPEN TO EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU IF YOU DON'T SURRENDER YOUR POWER TO THE GREY SKINS."

When my eyes rush over the letters, I feel the last bit of control in my body release before finally, rage takes over and I snap.

**END OF BOOK ONE**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has been reading and commenting in these past months! I can't tell you how much I appreciate every single person who takes time off of their day to read this weird little thingy I came up with.
> 
> I know, this is a horrible point to end a book, but the Larry problem from the beginning has been solved now. In the second book, the difficulties Larry will be facing are of a different kind. You can check out the sequel to this book under my Recent Works. It is called Waifs and Strays II - M.A.D.
> 
> THANK YOU AGAIN FOR READING. THIS MEANS THE WORLD ♥  
> See you soon!


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